


The Three Ranks

by Lafaiette



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood, Childhood Friends, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:21:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29432343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lafaiette/pseuds/Lafaiette
Summary: “Aerith.” he calls again. She weighs nothing, but she is burning hot against his arms. He feels like there is a second heart growing outside his chest right where she is touching him.Young Sephiroth and Aerith meet in the ShinRa labs. They become best friends, a connection forming between them as strong as the Planet's song.Then, an escape and a time of loneliness and war, only to meet again years later, in the streets of Midgar, with love blooming like a flower and godhood calling from the highest sphere.
Relationships: Aerith Gainsborough/Sephiroth
Comments: 50
Kudos: 112





	1. Angel

He’s seven when he first learns his mother’s name.

“She was called Jenova.” Professor Hojo answers him without looking at him, his beady eyes focused on the screen in front of him. Sephiroth is still small and scrawny, and he cannot see Hojo's face from where he’s standing.

“Where is she?” he asks. He yearns for affection, for a kind touch, for a hand on his arm that doesn’t carry a needle or isn’t clad in a synthetic glove.

He has seen videos, he has read about families, parents, and love. He wants to know what they all feel like. And since he is always surrounded by men, by serious scientists and gloomy guards, his soul aches for something different, more delicate, more maternal.

“She died.” Professor Hojo replies without looking up from the screen. Sephiroth’s pain and disappointment fill the room like a miasma, but he has been taught not to cry.

“Oh.” He hesitates, fidgeting on the spot, tugging at the clean hem of his long lab dress. He wants to ask more, to know more, but the sorrow in his throat stops any words from coming out of his chapped mouth.

“Shortly after giving birth to you.” Hojo continues, perhaps pitying him. He is always cold, distant, but Sephiroth has started to recognize some kind of warm feeling in his eyes when the Professor thinks he cannot see him.

“And my father?”

Hojo finally turns to glance at him and Sephiroth sees no warmth in his eyes, now, only ice and something akin to fear, or maybe panic. It doesn’t last long, but his nearly perfect memory will always keep that scene locked in the many dark nooks of his mind, ready to be replayed and replayed and replayed.

“Why do you care about these things?” Hojo says, his thin mouth twisting like a snake, like Sephiroth’s pale fingers. “Shinra is your family.”

“But…” He looks down, confused and sad. “But Shinra isn’t a person. It isn’t a parent. Everyone has parents. The videos…”

“Ah, that rubbish Gast lets you watch?” Hojo’s tone could poison an entire room of people. “I told him countless times not to waste your time with that stuff. You can’t learn anything useful from it.”

He turns back to his computer with a _tsk_ , dismissing Sephiroth and the movies and plays he watched with the other professor, the kind and warm one who smiles at him and always brings him more colourful books with figures in them.

“They’re useful!” Sephiroth says, marking one of the few occasions he will ever raise his voice in anger in his life. “I like them!”

“He should be teaching you how to write and read, not to watch stupid movies and soap operas.”

“I know how to write.” Sephiroth mumbles, offended that Professor Hojo believes he doesn’t yet. “And how to read. Professor Gast helps me with that _before_ watching the _teevvi.”_

“Tee-vee.” Hojo corrects him, before snorting. “He should teach you how to speak correctly, too.”

Shame and hurt pride colour Sephiroth’s cheeks and his lower lip trembles for a moment; thankfully, Hojo cannot see him, otherwise he would sternly scold him.

“You didn’t tell me about my father.”

He sees Hojo’s shoulders tense up and his hand push the glasses further onto his nose, a nervous habit.

“What do you want me to say, boy? That he was a good man? Selfless and kind?”

“Was?” Sephiroth’s loneliness crushes him like a boulder. “Is he dead, too?”

Hojo slightly turns his head to look at him – to stare at him, silent and serious, colder than the lab they are in. But there is sadness in his eyes, too, Sephiroth thinks, before his own sorrow becomes too big for his small, young heart and tears threaten to spill.

“I…” He swallows the pain. He will become good at doing that in the years to come.

Sephiroth realizes with horror that he will never be like the children he saw in the videos, that he will never have a normal family like the ones described in the books.

Professor Gast, he thinks while his sight gets blurry, has accidentally been crueller than Hojo and his thoughtless words. In showing him that world, he also showed him what he can never have, what he never had since from the start.

“Don’t cry.” Hojo says, and it isn’t the kind request of a parent, but the gruff, awkward demand of a scientist. He looks at Sephiroth, eyes narrowed, but the child feels too ripped inside, too lonely and lost to obey.

He hiccups and sobs, and the lithe, pale body that will grow into a tall statue shakes and trembles like a leaf. His green, special eyes are cast down and his fingers are digging into the white cotton of his lab dress. There are band-aids on both his arms, because Hojo and his assistants took blood samples from him that morning.

“Go back to your room.” Hojo says, his voice softer, but Sephiroth is too sad to notice that. He cries harder, grieving for his lost mother and his lost father, lamenting the loss of a life he never knew, but always desired.

His sobs get so loud Hojo is forced to move and intervene; he leaves his computer and walks to him with long strides, but stops just before touching him. His hand hovers a few inches away from Sephiroth’s silver hair for some seconds, then falls back at his side.

“Sephiroth.” Hojo calls, annoyance and something similar to pain in his voice. “Stop crying.”

Right then, the door opens and a wide-eyed Gast enters. He immediately spots Sephiroth, who is nearly choking on his tears – he rushes to him and crouches down to better look at him.

“Sephiroth! Sephiroth, what happened?” When the child keeps crying and doesn’t answer, Gast shoots an icy glare at Hojo. “What did you do to him?”

“I only told him the truth.” Hojo says, his face a mask of disgust and rage. Gast holds his breath, fearing the worst, and the other man snickers mockingly.

“No, you fool. I simply told him his mother Jenova and his father are dead.” His cruel smirk is replaced by a frown. “This is your fault, you know. You filled his head with those stupid notions of family and what not.”

“Why did you have to be so tactless about it?” Gast answers back, pulling Sephiroth into his arms. The child is used to his hugs only and gladly accepts the physical contact which, had it come from another human being, would have confused and surprised him endlessly.

“Truth is always tactless, Gast.”

“Come, Sephiroth.” Gast ignores the other scientist, not wanting to fill the room with his growing rage. “Let’s go back to your room.”

“Why did you show me these?” Sephiroth cries once they are alone, clinging to Gast’s coat, looking at the video tapes on the ground near the TV. “Why do those kids have a mom and a dad and I don’t?”

“I’m so sorry.” Gast repeats over and over, on the verge of tears himself. “Sephiroth, I’m so sorry.”

He is the closest thing to a father he has, and so Sephiroth cries against his chest a little more, before he is too exhausted to stand and needs to be put in bed.

Sephiroth won’t ever cry again after that, at least not outwardly. He will keep his tears and pain inside, festering and rotting like a wound ignored for too long. He will learn not to ask about his family – or the absence of it – anymore; he will learn not to ask _Hojo_ , who in turn will turn even colder, distant, wearing his crazy laugh like a shroud to hide his twisted pride for his best creation.

But despite the sorrow, the rage, the doubts and fears that haunt him, despite the environment he’s forced to grow in, he manages to find and collect kindness in his heart.

It’s often awkward and he doesn’t know how to act less aloof, but it’s there, mixed with politeness, rare, small smiles and sweet gestures always followed by a blush and a strategic escape.

He brings coffee to Gast and Hollander every morning, always with the perfect amount of sugar, and when the professors try to thank him, he flees with a smile.

He helps the professors’ assistants carry heavy folders and sheets of paper, because even at seven, he’s stronger than anyone else and he feels that’s the right thing to do. At first, they thank him with puzzled smiles, then with sincere words of appreciation, and sometimes even pats on the back. He grows less timid around them, but still doesn’t know how to reply and how to act with people.

One day, he finds a roach in the bathrooms, a tiny, dirty thing that buzzes and shines under the harsh white lights, trapped under a sink. He sets it free, gently pushing it into a vent, knowing the janitors won’t find it and crush it there. The creature tickles his fingers before scurrying away in the darkness of the tight tunnel, and a giggle escapes Sephiroth’s mouth.

He is lonely, though. He is almost never alone, always surrounded by white coats, needles, and bright screens, by voices and whispers and numbers, but he is _lonely_. Gast can visit him only for a short time, usually before going to sleep, and even though the professor is kind and warm like nobody else is, Sephiroth misses something else.

His favours for the assistants win him no friends – they are too scared of him, he realizes one day with shock, too unsettled by his eyes, too blinded by the potential and answers lying within him. They might pat his back and offer him slow smiles, but these people want his presence in their same room just to keep studying him.

And they study him _endlessly_. They inject scorching Mako in his veins, they train him with weapons and robots, they give him pills that make his stomach twist and churn. Hojo asks him questions about his status every time he’s lying down, exhausted and bloody after another surgery or a training program – and he asks not because he’s worried about his wellbeing, but because he needs to know whether to increase his enhancing meds or not.

Hojo and Hollander are out of the question, as well. The latter is jealous, Sephiroth discovers one day after accidentally eavesdropping – jealous of what? he wonders, but the answer will come only many years later.

Hojo is someone to avoid at all costs, even though it’s basically impossible. The man controls every part of Sephiroth’s life and his influence surrounds him like barbed wire.

Sephiroth tries to keep their relationship a civil one, at least, because Professor Hojo is an unpredictable, dangerous man and he can make his life an even worse hell.

And sometimes, just sometimes, he gives Sephiroth candies or chocolate when he is in a good mood.

\- - - -

One day, Professor Gast leaves.

Nobody knows where he went. Nobody knows why. Sephiroth cries inside his heart for the only paternal figure he ever knew and will think about their last conversation for years.

It happened the night before Gast’s disappearance. The man had cried, Sephiroth had noticed it right away, but he hadn’t said anything, not wanting to embarrass him.

 _“You are a good person.”_ Gast told him that night, while hugging him. _“You are a good person, Sephiroth. A person, not a weapon. Always remember that.”_

 _“But…”_ He looked up, into the man’s kind eyes, circled by clear glasses, not dark like Hojo’s. _“But that’s what I am. Why they always train me and improve me so much.”_

 _“No!”_ Gast cupped his face in his large, smooth hands. Always handling pens and paper, not swords and gloves. The hands of a scholar, not of a warrior. Sephiroth envied and still envies those hands.

_“You are a person, my dear child. No matter what they tell you, always remember that. Promise me? Please?”_

_“I promise.”_ Sephiroth felt like crying, but he didn’t, because Gast was already crying for them both.

And now he’s alone, truly alone, he thinks while lying in bed, clutching his shirt, scared of the future more than ever before.

\- - - -

He’s eight when Ifalna and Aerith are brought into the Science Department.

Ifalna is the first woman Sephiroth sees in the flesh – none of the Professors have female assistants, not yet – and the only women he ever saw were those in the videos Professor Gast showed him: mothers, wives, sisters, warriors, small, tall, chubby, thin.

But Ifalna and Aerith are _real_. Ifalna’s eyes are green like the grass in the documentaries he watched and her voice is wise, confident, but also a bit deeper than the voices of the women on TV.

She and her daughter are the most beautiful people he has ever seen and met. An aura surrounds them, he is not sure of what kind. It beckons him and he wants nothing more than run to them and touch Ifalna’s long, curly brown hair and caress Aerith’s pink cheeks.

He can see and sense tiredness, sorrow, and despair in Ifalna, badly hidden on her face, but she promptly answers back to Professor Hojo and glares at him so hard, the man is forced to look away, much to Sephiroth’s shock and joy.

He is sitting on an examination table in one of the labs, staring at the woman and her daughter who have just been brought in as if they are miracles, holy summons. Ifalna’s eyes meet his and they gasp at the same time – Sephiroth blushes and tenses up, not used to looking at a woman, to being looked at by one, to seeing a _mother_.

Aerith is a small bundle in her arms. She gurgles and makes funny noises, which remind Sephiroth of those made by the monsters he was forced to slay in the training rooms. But hers are cute, sweet, and they sing of life and innocence, not of blood and pain.

Ifalna is holding her like she is the most precious treasure in the world, and from what he knows, that’s what children are to their parents. Sephiroth wonders with a searing ache in his chest if his mother ever held him like that, at least once.

“Hello.” Ifalna says, ignoring the Professors and their assistants completely. Her attention is focused on Sephiroth and Aerith only.

“H-Hello.” Sephiroth replies, polite and shy. His bare arms are covered in bloody bandages, because they studied his tendons just a few hours prior to Ifalna and Aerith’s arrival. The cuts are already healing, but the pain is still fresh and he doesn’t have enough strength to hop down from the table.

There is a smile on Ifalna’s face, now. It’s small, but it’s there, and it’s warm and honest, just like Professor Gast’s. It reaches her eyes and the air around her seems to sing and vibrate.

Sephiroth is enchanted. Do all mothers look like this?

“What is your name?” she asks, approaching him. Aerith makes another sound and Sephiroth sees her tiny fists move slowly above her pink blanket.

“Sephiroth.” He smiles only when he’s alone, too timid and awkward to do it around other people, but it comes natural to him when Ifalna looks at him. Her smile grows and Sephiroth’s blush reaches his ears.

“It’s a beautiful name. Mine is Ifalna.”

“I like it.” he says, sincere. There is silence around them and he realizes the Professors and other scientists are analysing their interaction.

If Ifalna and her daughter are here, it must mean they are important, that Shinra wants something from them that only they can give. He feels sick just at the thought of this woman and her child go under the same treatments he’s forced into.

“You are very pretty.” he blurts out. Under normal circumstances, he would never say something like this, too introverted to do so, but Ifalna and Aerith change the very fabric of existence around them and he feels invincible.

Someone snorts in the background and Sephiroth blushes harder, mortified, his eyes cast down; Ifalna hurries to reassure him, however, and her tone is sweet when she next speaks. Sephiroth can still hear her smile in it, even though he doesn’t raise his eyes to make sure.

“Thank you. I think you are a very handsome young man, too.”

Nobody ever called him handsome before – sometimes the scientists call him ‘freaky’ or ‘weird’ under their breath, thinking he cannot hear them. Hojo only ever compliments his physical strength, while Hollander pretends not to see his qualities.

Gast often admired his intelligence and kindness, and Sephiroth felt good when he did that, but hearing such a creature as Ifalna say that he’s also handsome and good-looking – he, with his inhuman strength, strange eyes, and long limbs! – feels definitely better.

“Thank you.” he quietly says, then he looks up and smiles at Aerith. “She is beautiful, too.”

She really is. He never saw a newborn baby before, not even on TV or in the illustrated books Professor Gast gave him, and he is fascinated by the squirming little creature.

Aerith is as pink as her blanket and she looks equally soft. Her eyes are open, a lighter shade of green than her mother’s, and her toothless smile is aimed at him. There is already hair growing on her tiny head, brown and silky.

Ifalna laughs quietly, a sound that makes Sephiroth shiver with joy and Aerith giggle cheerfully.

“You think so? Do you want to see her better?”

Ifalna stands next to him – she smells of something sweet and deep, something Sephiroth doesn’t recognize. His nose has only ever smelled chemicals, blood, nothingness, not the colours on a mother’s dress or the milk she fed her child with.

Aerith is even prettier so up close and Sephiroth falls in love with her. She giggles and flails, flashing him a gummy grin, and he smiles back at her.

“She is Aerith.” Ifalna tells him, pride and love in her voice. “I believe she likes you.”

Flattered, Sephiroth raises a finger; he asks Ifalna for permission with a look and when he gets it, he gently presses his fingertip on Aerith’s rosy cheek. Her hand instantly seizes his finger – she is stronger than he thought and he laughs softly, surprised and happy, happy for the first time in his life.

“Hi, Aerith.” he says, beaming at the child, and she beams back at him. He could free himself in a second, used as he is to fighting monsters, mutants, machines all five times taller than him. But Aerith’s strength lies within her, he realizes; it’s a kind of strength that makes him stare at her with wonder and awe.

“I never saw him smile like that before.” someone whispers somewhere in the room. Hojo studies the scene with hawk-like eyes, while Hollander grits his teeth.

“Can I hold her?” he asks, hopeful and excited, so much he doesn’t notice Ifalna’s slight hesitation. But then the woman nods, her smile still sincere and warm, and she shows him where to put his hands to make Aerith as most comfortable as possible.

“Aerith.” he calls again. She weighs nothing, but she is burning hot against his arms. He feels like there is a second heart growing outside his chest right where she is touching him.

“Aerith. Pretty Aerith.” Her eyes are brighter and greener than Mako, purer than anything Sephiroth has ever seen in his brief life.

She giggles at him and reaches up to grab his silver hair. He lets her play with it, ignoring the scientists taking notes, Hojo’s ecstatic snickering, and Hollander moving around the room to find a seat for Ifalna.

Sephiroth has eyes for Aerith only. He has never felt so strong emotions and feelings before; he has never felt such an overwhelming joy nor is he able to recognize this love piercing his heart like a sword yet.

The Planet sings around him and Aerith. He doesn’t know it, but Ifalna does and she prays this child will be able to fly her daughter out of this place someday soon.


	2. Archangel

He tries to spend as much time as he can with Ifalna and Aerith. Instead of asking for sweets or more books as a reward for having completed a training program, he asks to visit them.

Hojo always allows it. Sephiroth doesn’t know what he has planned, and he always stays on his guard, but as soon as he steps into the small room they have given to Ifalna and Aerith, he forgets about the outside world, about Shinra, about his life.

“Why are they keeping you here?” he asks one day, looking at Ifalna’s arms. There are little red marks on them, marks Sephiroth knows all too well: they took blood samples from her, one after each experiment or injection or Gaia knows what else to see the different effects on her organism.

She looks tired and pale, but still strong and majestic, like the queens he has read about.

“Because Aerith and I are Ancients.” She smiles ruefully at him, at her daughter who is peacefully sleeping in Sephiroth’s arms. He always asks to hold her, to touch her, and Ifalna always agrees, because she can see Aerith is happy with him, too.

“Ancients?”

She tells him what it means and Sephiroth’s world changes once again. His eyes widen and he gasps, looking down at Aerith, then up at Ifalna again.

“You can hear the Planet speak? And… and you have powers?”

“Yes. That’s why they caught us.” Ifalna draws a sharp breath in. “My husband tried to protect us, but they killed him for it.”

“I’m sorry.” Sephiroth knows what it means to lose someone dear. He lost his mother before he could even remember her and Gast is gone, too, now. One week ago, Hollander told him that he is dead, that they found his corpse in a small village near Midgar.

“A very kind man who was my friend died, too.” Sephiroth tells Ifalna, strong enough not to spill tears, but weak enough to let his hand shake as he touches Aerith’s chubby cheeks. “He always hugged me when I was hurt or sad. He never treated me badly. But one day he left and now he’s dead.”

“Oh, my dear child.” Ifalna’s arms envelop him in a tight embrace and her scent – earth, soil, and flowers, she told him it was, even though it’s fading now – surrounds him like a second hug. Sephiroth’s heart hammers in his small chest and he holds his breath, speechless.

“Our lives have been very hard.” she says, pressing her cheek on his silver hair. She pulls away just a little bit to look at him in the eye; her wise, strong smile is on her lips. “But I’m sure they will get better someday. The Planet told me so.”

Sephiroth hungers for another hug, but he refrains from asking for it, not wanting to bother the poor woman.

“What… What does the Planet sound like?” he asks instead, looking down at his precious little friend, who just woke up and is looking at him with a small, sleepy smile.

“Like a song. Vast, no, endless. Do you know what the Lifestream is?”

Sephiroth shakes his head. Now that Gast is gone, it’s Hojo who teaches him written words and other scholarly subjects, but the man is clinical and cruel in that, too, and never teaches him anything interesting. Sephiroth prefers to read alone at night, until his eyes sting and his head is too full with concepts and images to sleep well.

“When someone or something dies, it becomes part of Gaia, of the Planet.” Ifalna gently strokes his hair as she speaks and Sephiroth is immediately focused on her words, on the knowledge she is sharing with him. “The Lifestream is the soul of the Planet, formed by all that died and became part of it again. It contains their memories and is the memory of Gaia.”

Ifalna sighs and closes her eyes for a second, before setting her gaze on Sephiroth.

“Mako, what they inject in you sometimes, is the liquid form of the Lifestream.”

Sephiroth gasps and looks down at his own marked arms. He can still feel the burning ache of the Mako running through his veins.

“Then… what is Materia?” He’s trying so hard to understand, so much he frowns and tilts his head, a gesture that makes Ifalna laugh gently.

“The condensed form of Mako. Materia contains the wisdom and knowledge of the Ancients – that’s how people are able to cast fire or heal themselves using it.” She makes a funny face, a sort of grimace. “I heard they call it ‘magic’.”

“Yes.” Sephiroth hums thoughtfully, still trying to wrap his mind around all this. “Lady Ifalna, what does Shinra want from you _exactly_?”

“Just call me Ifalna, Sephiroth. I told you, there is no need to be so formal.”

He hesitates, tries, then shakes his head, too embarrassed. This earns him another laugh from Ifalna and he smiles – Aerith sees his expression and smiles back at him, cooing happily.

“I don’t know what they are looking for.” Ifalna admits after a few moments of silence spent patting her daughter’s soft hair. “But whatever it is, I doubt they will find it. Sooner or later, they will start examining Aerith as well.”

“ _No!_ ”

Sephiroth’s shout makes the walls tremble and his eyes are full of fear, anger, and despair.

Aerith startles, then starts wailing, causing Sephiroth’s heart to beat faster with guilt and shame. He pales and looks down at her, breathing too fast and hard.

“I’m sorry!” he exclaims, trying his best not to cry as well. He has to be stronger than ever now, for Aerith and Ifalna’s sake. “Aerith, I’m sorry! Please don’t cry! I didn’t want to hurt you!”

“You didn’t hurt her.” Ifalna reassures him, reaching out to take her daughter and calm her down; but Sephiroth’s clutch on the infant is iron-like and his erratic breathing and dilated pupils stop the woman on her tracks.

“Sephiroth, she was just surprised. Please give her to me and-”

“I’m sorry!” He ignores Ifalna, deaf to her words. He is completely focused on Aerith and her wailing, her tears, the fear _he_ caused her to feel. It’s the first time he’s the cause of her distress and the feeling is worse than any torture he was ever subjected to.

“Sephiroth…!”

“I will protect you!” he tells Aerith, but his voice is so loud and full of despair that the little child cries harder, eliciting another breakdown in Sephiroth. “Aerith, I swear it! _I will protect you!_ I will never let anything happen to you or your mom!”

“Give her to me, please!”

Ifalna manages to take Aerith from the boy, but he grabs her dress, clinging to it and her bloody arms to reach Aerith again. He has seen Ifalna’s state, how frail and transparent she is becoming. Will it happen to Aerith, too? Small, innocent Aerith whose smiles for him are always the warmest, whose eyes hold only happiness when she sees him?

“I swear it!” he repeats. He cannot lose Aerith and Ifalna, too. They are his dearest friends in this place where love and joy are forbidden, his only tethers to hope. They have become, even in such a short time, his reasons to live and fight.

“Sephiroth, please, calm down!”

“What _the hell_ is going on here?”

Hojo and a few guards enter the room, and Sephiroth’s bizarre eyes now turn to the loathsome man, to his grimacing thin mouth, his hidden eyes, his bad posture.

“Have you lost your mind, boy?! What are you doing?!” Hojo walks to him with long, graceless strides and attempts to grab him.

But Sephiroth is faster, he will always be faster than anyone else, and before Hojo can blink, he has already seized his wrist.

“ _You_.” Sephiroth’s face is the face of an eight years old child, but his eyes and tone are not.

He has only killed monsters and machine so far, but he’s ready to kill his first human, now.

He’s ready, if it means Aerith and Ifalna will stay safe, far from whatever prodding and experiment Hojo and his assistants have planned.

“I won’t let you hurt them!” Sephiroth shouts, twisting the Professor’s wrist until the man lets out a pained hiss. “I will smear the walls with your blood if you touch them!”

“Guards!” Hojo calls, making the shocked soldiers flinch and react.

They know Sephiroth, they are aware of his strength and prowess as a combatant – the only thing that can stop him is a heavy dose of sleeping powder, but even that is slowly losing its effect as the months go by, Hojo found out. In a few years, nothing and nobody will be able to stop the boy, should he ever decide to go on a rampage.

“I will cut you down to pieces!” Sephiroth continues, his body shivering, his eyes too wide and _too green_ , _too blue_ , all the shades of Lifestream living in them. Hojo stares at him, fascinated and scared at the same time, his wrist nearly broken.

“Aim!” one of the guards orders and the other two obey, readying their guns.

“If you hurt Aerith, I will slit your throat, Hojo!” Sephiroth swears, out of his mind.

“Shoot!”

Ifalna and Aerith are crying in the background, but as soon as the sleeping powder hits him, Sephiroth’s enhanced hearing cannot hear them well anymore. He struggles to breath and stay awake, and Hojo escapes from his grasp.

The boy falls and hits the ground, his mind all fuzzy, his head too light, his limbs too heavy. He coughs and his short, bitten nails scratch the floor as he tries to get up, in vain.

There are voices in the background, speaking, crying, yelling – then silence, but Sephiroth is still awake. His blurry sight search for Ifalna and Aerith, but he sees only the white ceiling and the harsh lights.

Then, a shadow covers him and he recognizes the metallic glint of Hojo’s glasses.

“What a chivalrous young boy.” the scientist says with something that sounds like disgust. “Well, then, Sephiroth, let’s make a deal: if you promise to _behave_ and never do something so foolish again, I promise to treat our guests with more care.”

Sephiroth gasps for air, the sleeping powder of Shinra forming a layer of stickiness and staleness in his mouth and throat. His unfocused gaze stares into the shadow above that Hojo is.

“I will take fewer skin and blood samples from the older Ancient, for example.” the man continues, his voice now amused. “And I won’t study the younger one for now. I will wait until she is… let’s see… three years old or something. I’m confident I will be able to collect a great deal of information from her mother, in the meantime. We are in no hurry.”

Sephiroth grits his teeth, desperately attempting to stay awake and answer back, but he is weak and sleepy and it’s like someone is pouring molasses into his brain.

“But if you ever decide to be such a little beast like before,” Hojo’s voice turns as sharp as Sephiroth’s training sword, “then I will use those _creatures_ so thoroughly, only husks will remain.” A wicked snicker. “After all, the young Ancient won’t need to be much else for you to sire a child in the distant future.”

 _What?_ Sephiroth is still too young and innocent to comprehend, but unbeknown to him Ifalna is still in the room, catching her breath in a corner. She hears what Hojo says and her heart falls into the pit of her stomach like a stone.

“Do we have a deal?” Hojo asks, his smile coming back into his voice, and Sephiroth can only nod – anything to keep his two friends safe – before he succumbs to sleep.

\- - - -

He is allowed to return to Ifalna and Aerith’s room only a week later.

He’s ashamed of the way he acted in front of the two Ancients, but his determination and conviction to see them safe and sound is still strong as ever.

He keeps his head low and apologizes to Ifalna for the scare, his ears red, but his embarrassment flies away when the woman kneels down to pull him into a tight hug.

He timidly hugs her back and tenses up a little, surprised, when she thanks him.

“You are a very kind boy, Sephiroth.” she tells him, tears in her eyes, her usual strong smile on her face.

He plays with the hem of his shirt like he does every time he’s nervous and asks: “Even though I was so violent and said those ugly things?”

“Yes. Even so.” Ifalna brushes back his silver, longish hair so that his bangs don’t fall on his eyes. It’s unruly, difficult to tame, since it’s so straight and slick and the silver strands so thin and many.

Sephiroth looks down with a happy smile, proud and flattered. Then he hears Aerith giggle in her crib, like she does every time he visits her and her mother, as though she can sense him coming.

Ifalna notices his soft gaze full of longing and asks, taking his hand: “Would you like to hold her?”

He surprises her when he shakes his head, a resigned look on his face.

“No. I scared her the other day.”

“Oh, Sephiroth, it wasn’t your fault! Come, she is always happy to see you.”

She leads him to the crib and picks Aerith up for him to see. The little one laughs and beams at him as soon as she spots him.

He has missed her and his hands itch at his sides as he tries to maintain a neutral look on his face; but he fails and a smile blooms on it, reaching his Mako-like eyes and dimpling his cheeks.

“Here.” Ifalna is smiling, too – she always does when Sephiroth comes visit her and Aerith, even when her bones hurt and her head is pounding.

Sephiroth delicately takes Aerith in his arms and lets his hair fall down so that she can grasp it and play with it. He even lets her chew it, unbothered by it – were she or Ifalna anyone else, he would recoil from the touch, since he considers his hair to be his only beautiful trait and wanting to keep it safe.

“Are they treating you and your mom well now, Aerith?” he asks, kissing her forehead like he saw Ifalna do. “Call me if they don’t and I will come to protect you!”

“They are gentler, yes.” Ifalna answers for her, but her voice is sad. “What about you, Sephiroth? Did they punish you?”

“No.” he lies, not raising his eyes from Aerith. “They didn’t do anything.”

“Sephiroth…”

Ifalna knows he’s lying and Sephiroth knows that she knows, but he doesn’t want to burden her with his pain. He will keep the new scars and ruthless training regimen they gave him a secret, so that she and Aerith won’t be sad.

“Can you tell me more about the outside, please?” he asks timidly, playing with Aerith. The little girl giggles and cuddles in his embrace, and his chest is full of warmth and love.

“Of course.” Ifalna sits behind him and starts brushing his hair with her only comb, while describing the flowers, the sun, the sky all visible outside Midgar’s polluted area.

“My husband and I lived in the north.” she says, her hand moving slowly up and down, sending drowsy shivers all along Sephiroth’s nape. “It was full of snow and ice. Very cold, but so beautiful. My plants thrived even there.”

“I read about snow.” he says, gently rocking Aerith to make her laugh and succeeding. “It’s as white as my hair, isn’t it?”

“Yes, and very soft. The kids in the village used to make snowmen and have snowball fights on the main street.”

“Snowball fights…?” Sephiroth’s eyebrows shoot up. “Do people fight there, too?”

“They weren’t real fights.” Ifalna explains, kind and patient as always. “They were mock battles to play and have fun.”

He frowns at that, confused.

“I never have fun when I fight.”

Ifalna’s eyes are sad, now, but his back is turned to her and he cannot see them.

“I know, my dear.”

“And I don’t have fun when I train either! It’s all very tiresome and scary, and then Hojo and the other scientists study me and ask me stupid questions.”

“I know.”

A long moment of silence, then he says quietly, a whisper in the almost empty room:

“I wish I could play with Aerith in the snow. I've never played with someone.”

“Well, you will be able to play together once she is a little older.”

“But I don’t know any games.”

Ifalna gives his hair one final touch, then pats his head, making him turn towards her.

“I will teach you. And then you and Aerith will come up with your own games. That’s how they are made, after all.”

Sephiroth looks reassured, but then a new shadow passes over his eyes and he silently looks down at the child in his arms, now dozing off.

“What is it, Sephiroth?”

He doesn’t answer right away – he keeps watching Aerith, lost in thought, then he slowly looks up, meeting Ifalna’s emerald eyes.

“I will get stronger.” he says. “I will get so strong they won’t be able to stop me ever again.”

Ifalna stays quiet, listening intently, her hands holding the little comb.

“And then I will free you and Aerith.”

Ifalna doesn’t know what to say. She opens her mouth, but no sound comes out. Her head is full of pain, medicines, and the Planet’s song. Sephiroth’s words are a promise and she clings to it, even though she knows it’s wrong to put such a burden on him, because it’s the only hope she has right now.

“Thank you.” she manages to murmur in the end, watching him beam at her and then at Aerith, her heart torn between joy and the pain she feels for this poor child.

\- - - -

Aerith is four when she decides that she will marry Sephiroth.

He is her light, her beacon, her best friend. Every day, when her mom is taken away to the labs, he is allowed to keep her company, if his schedule lets him.

He is kind and strong and beautiful. She especially loves his kindness, his eyes and his hair, but she could listen to his voice for hours, too, and she loves it when he takes her hands and twirls her around.

He comforts her when she cries after a bad day in the labs and he laughs with her when they draw on the wall of her room with crayons. He is way better than her at drawing – “Because he’s older.” her mom told her – and Aerith is proud of him and admires him even more.

Sometimes, when the scary Professor Hojo says yes, Sephiroth brings her to another floor, one where a fountain and some pretty plants are. They can only go there after everyone else has gone back home, Hojo told them; Aerith doesn’t know what ‘going back home’ means, but she obeys, because Hojo is bad and he always hurts Sephiroth when her friend ‘misbehaves’.

The floor with the fountain and plants has some big and large windows, too. Sephiroth and Aerith sit on the floor and watch the lights of the city, holding hands.

“It’s called Midgar.” Sephiroth once told her. “One day, I will bring you there and even further.”

“Don’t get hurt, though!” she immediately protested. “I don’t want Hojo to hurt you!”

She knows Sephiroth trains very hard, that he’s very strong. His hands can open and carry anything and she knows he could outrun her in a second, even though he always lets her win when they race in the corridors. But Hojo is somehow stronger.

“He won’t.” Sephiroth promised, smiling at her. They always smile at each other and Aerith is happy whenever he and her mom are with her in the same room.

“Mom, I’m gonna marry Sephiroth!” she proudly announces the day she makes her decision. Ifalna laughs and nods, patting her cheek, and Aerith pouts, because she thinks her mom doesn’t take her seriously.

“I’m gonna do it! I saw the people on the _teevvi_! I wanna stay with Seph forever!”

She is too young to see the sadness in her mother’s smile.

Later that day, she announces her decision in the labs, too. Sephiroth is there with her for his daily check-in, while a woman and her assistants are listening to Aerith’s heartbeat with a cold thing pressed on her chest.

“Stay still, boy.” she hears Hollander sigh. “They are not hurting her. Stop turning in her direction and look into the machine, please.”

Sephiroth huffs, but obeys. A few minutes of silence, then he hisses when Hollander sprays something into his eyes.

“Don’t hurt my husband!” Aerith yells, glaring daggers at the scientist. For the first time in her very short life, she sees Hollander stare at her with sheer surprise on his usually serious, bored face.

The woman and her assistants giggle under their breath and Sephiroth gawks at her, his face redder than Aerith’s strawberry crayon.

“Your… husband?” Hollander repeats, very slowly. Aerith nods, sitting up and folding her arms on her chest with all the rage and outrage of a four-years old.

“Yes! Seph is gonna be my husband! I love him very much!”

Sephiroth looks away and hides his face behind his hands, a strange noise escaping him.

It’s okay, though. Aerith knows he’s very, _very_ shy.

“You are both too young to get married.” Hollander mumbles, giving his attention back to the boy to spray the liquid in his eyes again, but Aerith’s screech makes him jump and stop.

“Stop it! You’re hurting him! You doctors always hurt him!”

“Take her away, please.” Hollander orders the three scientists with a weary sigh; while she is carried out, kicking and flailing, Aerith manages to glare at the scientist some more.

“You’re bad and we’re not gonna invite you to the wedding!”

“Goodness!” Hollander mutters as the door closes. “Who does she take after, I wonder?”

Sephiroth stays quiet for the whole examination, but his blush never fades.

\- - - -

They are allowed to go to the floor with the fountain and the flowers that night. Aerith plucks two flowers from a pot, one for Sephiroth and one for her mother, because she knows she misses her plants very much.

They stand in front of one of the large windows overlooking Midgar, holding hands.

“Here!” She offers the little yellow flower she found to Sephiroth and he smiles, accepts it with a nod, and puts it in his hair, behind his ear like Ifalna taught them.

“Seph, we’re gonna stay together forever, right?” Aerith asks, her sweaty hand safely held in his, which is full of callouses and healed cuts. Her green eyes look into his, her face pale with fear and anguish.

But then he smiles a second time and she feels happy and relieved again.

“Of course we are.”

“It’s okay if you don’t wanna get married.” she mumbles, looking down at the flower in her hand. Her mom told her she might have embarrassed him and Aerith doesn’t want Seph to ever feel bad. “I’m happy as long as we’re together.”

“Don’t worry.” Sephiroth laughs, plucking a flower as well and slipping it in Aerith’s chestnut hair. “I will marry you.”

“Really?!” she exclaims breathlessly. She is missing a tooth, and her mom and Sephiroth gave her two candies to celebrate it.

“Yes, really.”

“Can we do it now?”

“No!” Sephiroth laughs, gently elbowing her. “We are still too young! We need to wait a little more.”

“Oh.” Aerith pouts at the floor, thinking hard. Then she asks, hopeful: “Wait how much?”

“Until we are adults.”

“Oh.” She pouts harder, but the wait is worth it if it means she will stay with Sephiroth forever, she thinks.

She grins at him, her braid a brown mess after their race down the stairs.

“Can I have a pink dress for the wedding, please?”

“Yes.” Sephiroth promises her, his smile kind, as bright as his eyes. “I will find it for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to think that everything Sephiroth knows about the Ancients comes from Ifalna and subsequent studies he made on his own. That's why I referenced his explanation about Mako and Materia that he made in the cave of Mt. Nibel through Ifalna's explanation. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and sorry again for any typos!


	3. Principality

One day, Hojo enters Sephiroth’s room and tells him he’s going to war.

“Wutai refuses to give Shinra what they want.” he says, cleaning his glasses with the hem of his coat. His eyes are bloodshot, tired, a weird twinkle in them. “So Shinra declared war against Godo Kisaragi.”

Sephiroth swallows the bile rising up in his throat. He knows what this means. He will have to kill people, shed human blood, destroy a country. He knows he has the ability to do so. Shinra knows it, and that’s why they are sending him.

He remembers Professor Gast’s words, spoken so long ago, but he finds it hard to believe them now. He _does_ feel like a weapon – isn’t it exactly for situations like this that they have trained him so hard?

“The President decided you will command troops.” Hojo continues, ignoring or blind to Sephiroth’s unease. “Small groups at first, since you aren’t used to other people, except for…” He makes a weird gesture and a grimace. “For doctors and little girls, I guess.”

The idea of being around other people, telling them what to do, how and who to kill, fills Sephiroth with fear. He controls it, but it’s like a wave, growing and rising within him the more he thinks about it.

What does he know about orders and strategies? He only ever read about the stuff; he has _followed_ orders for his entire life – he isn’t used to the other way around. It’s like they are increasing the length of his leash, giving him more freedom, letting him see and taste more, but he’s afraid of it all.

“Also, the studies we made on you borne results, at least.” Hojo’s smile is unsettling as always, his eyes containing a myriad of wrong emotions. “Shinra authorized the start of a new combat unit, volunteers greatly enhanced by Mako. It will be called SOLDIER and you will be its first member.”

Sephiroth shivers. He imagines other young boys all going through what he went through – Mako injections upon Mako injections, until their veins burn and their muscles ache, until the world sings and then stays utterly and frighteningly quiet forever.

“Mako is dangerous.” he says, remembering Ifalna vomiting her eyes out after a particularly hard day in the labs. Aerith cried so much. “What if some volunteers don’t survive?”

“Failures are inevitable in science.” Hojo replies matter-of-factly with a shrug. “However, they are useful to understand what could be improved. Nothing is ever wasted.”

He claps his hands once, putting an end to the current topic. Sephiroth’s grip around the book he was reading is so strong, the cover creaks.

“Well, now! Come see what Scarlet made for you! The Weapon Department specially crafted a blade for your future battles in Wutai.”

Sephiroth follows the smiling Hojo down the halls and corridors of the Shinra Building, his limbs feeling too stiff and heavy. He has grown much in the past few years – his face is thinner, his shoulders a little broader, his voice a little deeper. He is letting his hair grow, but he now takes great care of it, helped by Aerith and her trusty comb.

The blade they give him is beautiful and terrifying at the same time. It’s long, too long, he thinks, but extremely light in his hands. Slightly curved, the edge sharper than anything he has ever touched before, the hilt sturdy and comfortable.

“We agreed on a name.” Hojo says, clasping his hands behind his back. His posture is getting worse, Sephiroth notices absentmindedly. “Masamune. A Wutain blade with a Wutain name to celebrate the start of this new part of your life.”

“It’s cruel.” Sephiroth says softly, lost into his reflection on the narrow blade.

“Oh, yes!” Hojo laughs wickedly. “And that’s the best part of it!”

\- - - -

“They are sending me to war.” he murmurs while drawing on the wall with Aerith.

Ifalna, sitting on her bed with a book on her lap, looks up so quickly, Sephiroth is sure he hears a cracking sound.

“War?” she repeats with a hoarse voice, eyes wide. “Where?”

“Wutai.”

Aerith stops drawing to stare at him with horror. She knows what war is – she is a clever girl, growing too quickly in this place, and the TV in the room doesn’t hide the horror that can be found outside, all caused by Shinra.

“But…!” Ifalna springs up, letting the book fall on the floor. “But you are so young and…! Why a war? Why now?”

“Wutai won’t allow Shinra to take their Mako. So Shinra reacted the only way they know.”

Sephiroth’s voice is still soft, as if he’s scared of bringing the fight here in this room, of turning this nightmare into reality.

He will be away from Aerith and Ifalna for who knows how long. He might die, even though he doubts it – if he won’t die, then he will be undoubtedly changed.

Nothing will ever be the same, he realizes, swallowing. He hasn’t cried in years, but he finds it hard not to do it now. He bites the inside of his lower lip to stop himself. He can’t let Aerith see him weep or she will feel even worse.

“They will put me in charge.” he continues as if he was describing the weather outside. He draws a red line, thickening it with each stroke until the tip of the crayon is flat and shiny. “In charge of soldiers. Then, once they are ready, of new Shinra troops improved with Mako. They will call them SOLDIER.”

Ifalna sobs quietly, a hand pressed on her mouth. Sephiroth takes small breaths to control himself, because Aerith is crying, too, now.

“Seph, don’t go!” she wails, climbing onto his lap and wrapping her arms around him. “Please, Seph, don’t leave us! Stay with us!”

He rests a hand on her back, while continuing to draw with the other. Always the same stroke, always the same red colour, until it all blurs in his eyes.

“Hojo says I will be allowed to come back every few months.” he murmurs, trying to console Aerith, but she cries harder and his heart bleeds.

“I will bring you new flowers.” he promises, his strokes now harder, his fingertips digging into the crayon until they are red, too. “The pink dress you asked for. A new ribbon for your hair.”

“I don’t want them!” Aerith cries, dampening his shirt with her tears. “I don’t want those things! I only want you here!”

“It will be alright.” he promises her, his eyes fixed on the red blotch on the wall. He will see a lot of it in the months to come, he thinks. Red all over him, all before him, all around him, until Wutai is covered in it and Shinra is finally satisfied.

“Sephiroth.”

Ifalna kneels next to him and stops his hand. The crayon snapped in half and his fingers are now sticky and oily with the pigment. He stares down at them with vacant eyes, then finally sees Aerith and Ifalna.

“I’m sorry.” he says, his eyes filling with tears even though he refuses to let them fall.

Ifalna pulls him and Aerith into her arms and he returns their embrace, his lips quivering, his mouth pressed on Aerith’s hair until the scream in his throat finally draws back.

\- - - -

He vomits the first time he flies to Wutai on an airship. The height, the sounds, the fear and novelty of it all get to him, but he gets better when a soldier twenty years his senior gives him some tablets for motion sickness.

Sephiroth has never been around so many people before. They are soldiers, guardsmen, volunteers. They lack the edge only Mako can give – the SOLDIER program has only just begun -, but they are used to fighting Shinra’s wars and they are clever enough to recognize Sephiroth’s strength and strangeness, to see his weird eyes and too tall height for someone of his age.

They will follow him, the President assured him before watching him set off.

 _But I don’t want their obedience, even though I need it._ Sephiroth thinks, fixing the buttons of the uniform he was given. _I only want…_

He doesn’t even know what. Friends? Companionship? Understanding?

He already has those – he thinks of Aerith and Ifalna and his heart cries out in despair.

Why can’t the outside distract him? He thought he would feel better after seeing it for the first time, after feeling the wind on his face, after watching the sun rise and the grass move. But it’s actually frightening, all so unknown and hauntingly beautiful. 

The fact that he’s going to another country to destroy it also doesn’t help. He has seen pictures and videos of Wutai during the debriefing meetings. It’s colourful, so different from the sterile Shinra Building and its modern floors.

It possesses a precious grace he has never glimpsed in the small parts of Midgar he could see from the windows. It’s as if the Planet’s presence were stronger there. And he’s going to burn it all down until Godo surrenders and Wutai is ready to give its Mako to Shinra.

 _Is this why I was born?_ Sephiroth wonders, watching the stars above as everyone else in the camp sleeps and dreams. A Wutain town is close – they will attack tomorrow, his squadron ready, the guns loaded, Masamune polished.

He scratches his arm, the uniform itchy and too tight. Only a few days have passed and he already feels like a different person.

Tomorrow, he thinks, tomorrow he will be dirty with blood. Tomorrow he will have to attack soldiers who are only defending their country and their families. He will have to destroy their homes if they don’t surrender, and refuse any kind of diplomatic talk.

These are his orders and he must obey them, because he is a weapon, but _also_ a person and Aerith and Ifalna will be in danger if he doesn’t obey. The President and Hojo made that quite clear, using subtle words and hard gazes before watching him leave.

He picks a flower, a tiny thing with yellow petals whose name he doesn’t know. He thinks of Aerith, of her weeping the last day he visited her, of her hug and her wet kiss on his cheek.

He slips the flower inside his uniform and keeps watching the stars, counting them, feeling the earth and soil breathe underneath him.

\- - - -

He returns to Midgar six months later, taller and leaner, his hair longer and more silver than ever.

His eyes are different. They lost the innocence they had before – they are full of pain and the atrocities of war, they are the witnesses of countless massacres, bloodbaths, and flames.

Masamune is at his side like it has been for months, his only friend in Wutai. The other soldiers are scared by him, by his speed, by his mind, by his strength. They whisper among themselves when they think he cannot hear them, just like the scientists used to do – they call him ‘beast’ and ‘demon’, afraid of him as much as the people of Wutai are.

They don’t know he never let anyone suffer. He always used Masamune with such expertise he always killed his enemies with one single stroke, the cut clean and aimed straight at the vital points.

He likes to think he still has some innocence hidden inside, enough to be worthy of hugging Aerith and Ifalna again.

\- - - -

Aerith is a bit taller, too, and much thinner than before. As soon as the door opens, Sephiroth immediately spots her. She is drawing sullenly on their wall.

“Is it my turn?” she asks with a bored, flat tone, not even turning from their artwork.

“To greet me, yes.” he answers, a huge smile on his face, the first one after six months.

Aerith gasps and jumps up, her mouth a perfect circle, her eyes so big Sephiroth can’t help but laugh, the sound foreign to his ears, even grating.

Aerith runs into his arms, already sobbing and hiccupping, and he tenses up, not used to a gentle touch after so much time.

This isn’t an enemy tackling him, he has to remind himself. He’s safe here. This is Aerith, his beloved Aerith, welcoming him back in their little haven.

“I’m here now, Aerith.” he says gently, the softest he has spoken in months. His throat is raw due to the smoke he breathed, the orders he shouted, the screams he made after being wounded time after time. But for her, his voice will always be soft.

“Will you stay?” she asks, looking up at him with her big, green eyes. There are dark circles under them – she hasn’t been sleeping well just like he hasn’t.

“Yes. For a few weeks.”

She chokes and sniffles, but doesn’t protest. This is their reality, now, and she can’t do anything to change it.

“Did they treat you well?” he asks, while they sit on two stools right in front of their artwork. It hasn’t grown much, just a few new animals, Ancients, and shapes here and there. The red mark he made is still there, stark against the greens and yellows and blues.

“Yes.” She refuses to let his hand go. She keeps it on her lap, stroking it, massaging his fingers, rubbing circles on his rough palm and chapped knuckles.

“What about your mom?”

“She is fine, too. A bit weak, but they aren’t hurting her, she says.”

“Good.”

Aerith moves on his knee and looks at him while he studies the mural. He meets her eyes and smiles again, his hand keeping her steady and safe.

“Seph, I missed you.” she sobs and their eyes fill with tears.

“I missed you, too.” He presses a kiss on her forehead, trying to remember the right gestures, the old habits. His mind is full of burning temples and dead people.

“I have a gift for you.” he says before he can break down completely. His smile is back and it brightens his eyes.

He takes a soft, small packet out of his pocket – it crinkles when Aerith timidly takes it from him.

“Open it.” he says, still gentle, never an order for her. “I hope you will like it.”

Aerith’s heart thunders in her ears as she unwraps the gift – hidden in the folds of the brown paper, there is a cute pink ribbon, perfect for her hair.

“Oh, it’s _beautiful_!” she gasps, beaming at Sephiroth. “Seph, it’s so, so pretty!”

She kisses his face, making him laugh for a second time that day. He helps her comb her hair and redoes her braid. The ribbon goes on top, its large folds framing Aerith’s head like two wings.

She stares at herself in the mirror, hands clasped on her chest, her cheeks as pink as the gift. It’s such a simple thing, and yet it seems so majestic to her, so special. She doesn’t know he bought it in a Wutain town that surrendered after a few hours.

“Thank you!” She wraps her arms around him, kisses his cheeks again, jumps up and down. “Oh, Seph, thank you! I will always wear it! I will never take it off!”

He laughs with her and Ifalna finds them like that, holding hands and dancing around the room just like old times. But things _have_ changed, she realizes it as well, and she rushes to Sephiroth with a pale face and a slight limp that only he notices.

She looks older and weaker, and he fears he is taking too much time to become strong enough to free her and Aerith. He must hurry.

“Sephiroth.” Ifalna cups his face in her cold hands, looking into his eyes. They fill with tears again, but he doesn’t cry. She rubs her thumb on his cheek.

“Oh, Sephiroth, what did they do to you?”

“Nothing.” he lies while leaning into her touch, but he knows that she knows.

\- - - -

Word about Sephiroth and his strength soon spreads. He becomes famous and posters are made of him, pictures where he has to stand with Masamune in his hand, looking menacing and serious even though he is still a young boy.

Thanks to his popularity, the SOLDIER program is a success. Young boys like him and men full of ideals and dreams sign up to join the war against Wutai. He hears from Hojo and Hollander that many die, but a good number of them survives and accesses to the next step.

Soon, the troops he commands are made of SOLDIERs only, fresh recruits with Mako eyes, great stamina and recovery, even though nobody is and will ever be as powerful as him.

“The perfect SOLDIER.” Hojo calls him, even though Sephiroth ignores him and avoids him as much as he can.

He enters adolescence, or at least some blurred version of it. He is taller than anyone else in his squadron, now, and his face is the face of an angel, or so he hears.

He doesn’t know: he never liked his weird eyes, and how is an angel supposed to look like, anyway?

Maybe like Aerith or Ifalna – definitely not like him. But he ignores the comments about his appearance just like he ignores Hojo, and accepts things as they are: his face _is_ narrower, his shoulders broader, his muscles toned, his hair long and silky like spun silver.

After some victories in Wutai, he is rewarded with more freedom – Shinra will let him visit the upper plate of Midgar when his schedule allows it.

He refuses the reward. He will go nowhere without Aerith and Ifalna; how could he enjoy the lights and games of the city without them? How could he stroll in its shiny streets when they are still trapped in the Science Department?

“You’re a fool!” Hojo barks at him, furious and disappointed. “This is the perfect occasion for you to experience new, _useful_ things and you decide to squander it!”

“The perfect occasion for _you_ to study my reactions and emotions further, you mean.” Sephiroth answers back, bitter and cold, because now he _can_ do that without repercussions, so strong and influential he is.

 _Soon_ , he thinks. _Soon you will be free, Aerith._

He knows he won’t be able to follow her and her mother that day. He has become too important for Shinra, too essential to their plans.

He doesn’t know what they originally wanted from him when they took him from his parents, but now he is on the path to become a leader (the President told him so with his unbearable laugh), a General for the troops.

Soon, he thinks, soon he will be chained even further.

He doesn’t say that to Aerith. She still believes they will all leave this place together, once he is so strong not even Shinra’s best weapons and machines can hurt him.

He has been training for that day without rest, sharpening his senses and Masamune until he’s one with the blade, accepting every kind of enhancement no matter how painful and inhuman it is, sacrificing all to see Aerith and Ifalna out of this hell.

He stole the guards’ patrol information and layouts of the floors, too, studying them until dawn, reading them and memorizing them even in Wutai, coming up with the best escape route to ensure Aerith and Ifalna’s wellbeing.

He’s been preparing himself psychologically as well, for he knows a part of him – probably his whole self – will die as soon as Aerith and Ifalna are gone. How could he stay the same, how could he live and not just _survive_ without them, without Ifalna’s hugs, without Aerith’s light and innocent kisses?

 _It’s alright_ , he thinks. _As long as they are happy, I will be alright._

“I’m almost done.” he tells Ifalna one night, while Aerith sleeps in his arms. “I just need to find a way to deactivate the cameras and then-”

“You are a very kind person.” Ifalna interrupts him, her heart heavy with guilt and sorrow. “The Planet blessed us when we met you, Sephiroth.”

He looks away, shy and embarrassed. He doesn’t feel like a blessing and Wutai definitely considers him a curse, a demon; here in this room, with the completed mural nearly glowing in the dark in all its childlike glory and Aerith in his arms, he is the one who feels blessed.

\- - - -

And then the day comes, with Ifalna struggling for breath and coughing blood all of a sudden.

Sephiroth and Aerith stare at her for a long second, shocked, before springing into action. They bring the poor woman some water, help her breathe, but Ifalna is too pale and sweating as if she ran for hours. She won’t survive another visit in the labs and Sephiroth knows what Hojo does to those who die under his care.

“Aerith.” Sephiroth calls softly, grabbing Masamune from the bed where he left it. He never moved without it for days, because he knew it would be useful sooner or later.

“Seph, I’m scared!” Aerith cries, holding her mother’s hand.

“We must go.” he whispers, thanking Gaia for the late hour. There will be fewer guards, fewer eyes around. The escape route is burned into his mind. “You must leave and find help in Midgar.”

Aerith gasps, realizing what that means. Ifalna looks at him with panic and hope all mixed together, but Sephiroth _is_ finally invincible and the constant war has been shaping him and his mind without rest.

He can do this, he can protect them, he can save them.

He wraps an arm around Ifalna’s waist to support her weight and asks Aerith to stay close to him, Masamune ready in his left hand.

The Planet cries and mourns, but he cannot hear it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Sephiroth's life gets even harder, but at least he makes two new friends ;_;


	4. Power

Sephiroth knows the Shinra Building better than he knows himself.

He has studied its layout, its various maps; he knows where most of the guards will be at this hour, he studied their schedule and the routes of their patrols.

First, he needs to deactivate the right cameras. He knows how to do that as well, thanks to the vague questions he asked and the deep exploration of the floors he was allowed to visit.

He observed the employees, memorized the right buttons to press, the computer’s controls, the inputs to give to it – his mind has always worked fast and his memory rarely fails.

If Ifalna wasn’t feeling so sick, he would lead her and Aerith through the vents – that was his original plan, but the poor woman is too weak and can barely walk. He has to support her and, for once, he’s thankful for his inhuman strength.

Aerith is at her mother’s other side, even though it’s Sephiroth the one who carries Ifalna’s whole weight. The little girl is crying quietly, watching the empty corridors with eyes full of panic and fear, but her gait is quick and she never hesitates. She trusts Sephiroth completely.

“This way.” he whispers, opening a door with the keycard they recently gave him, another proof of Shinra’s satisfaction after his victories in Wutai. He has been using it to secretly bring Aerith to other parts of the Building, to share his new slice of freedom with her.

“Here.”

He nods at a nook in the wall, into which Ifalna and Aerith can barely fit together. A few meters further, perched on the ceiling like a vulture, is a rotating camera, right on the path leading to the security room.

“Wait here.” he says, helping Ifalna sit on the ground. “I will deal with the guards, so we won’t be recorded in the security footage.”

“Please…” Ifalna gasps, seizing his arm. “Please don’t kill them.”

“Don’t worry.” He tries to reassure her with a smile. “I will use a harmless Materia.”

“Seph…!” Aerith is starting to panic. She knows her mother is getting worse, and they are still so far from Midgar, from anyone who could help them and shelter them.

“Everything is going to be alright.” Sephiroth promises her, never breaking eye contact. “Aerith, believe me. I will get you out of here, both of you.”

She is too scared to notice how he’s referring to her and Ifalna only, omitting himself. She can just nod, accepting his quick kiss on the forehead with gratefulness and a soothing rush of love.

Sephiroth destroys the camera with a slash of Masamune, then enters the security room before the guards inside can notice one of the screens going black. He casts Sleepel on the whole personnel using the Seal Materia he always carries along with others, all attached to his uniform and Masamune itself.

While the guards snore, he turns off the cameras on the current floor before glancing at the digital clock in a corner of the screen.

According to what he learned, the only guards here should be still checking another corridor far from where he and his friends are, but war has taught him that accidents and setbacks can always happen. They will have to move fast.

He runs back to Aerith and Ifalna, trying to be as quiet as possible. Ifalna tries to get up, helped by her daughter, but Sephiroth gently stops her and hoists her up on his back, careful not to jostle her too much, mindful of her conditions.

“We will take the maintenance stairs. No cameras there.”

“The stairs to where?” Ifalna rasps in his ear. Her breath smells of blood, but Sephiroth doesn’t mention it. If she doesn’t get help soon, she will die – his heart threatens to stop just at the thought of it.

“All straight down to the ground floor.”

“But we’re so high up!” Aerith exclaims, looking at the view from the windows.

“It’s the safest way. We can’t take the elevator – the cameras there cannot be disabled from this floor. They would see us and send machines to stop us.”

Sephiroth, his blade already sheathed at his side, smiles at his beloved friend and offers her his hand, which she takes immediately.

“Aerith, we will need to walk down the stairs quickly - can you do that?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Good. Lady Ifalna, hang on tightly. Don’t worry, you won’t hurt me.”

They pass by several cameras, all still and silent, and walk quietly through different corridors before finally reaching a nondescript, half-rusted door, so different from all the automatic ones that require a keycard.

Sephiroth pushes it open, flinching when its creaking echoes around them. He holds his breath, waiting for some Shinra guard to appear, but his gamble has paid off – the patrolling security is still far away, and no record of Sephiroth helping Aerith and Ifalna will be found.

He says so to the two Ancients, but Ifalna is unconvinced.

“Aren’t there… cameras… on the ground floor?”

“The stairs lead to a maintenance tunnel next to the front entrance. There are no cameras there.”

“How… is that possible?”

“They don’t expect anyone to be able to escape, and they especially don’t expect possible threats to enter from the front door.” Sephiroth replies slowly, focusing on the stairs, on balancing Ifalna on his back while helping Aerith keep the pace.

“There are always guards stationed there, however. Day and night.” he adds, even though he regrets saying that when he hears Aerith’s terrified gasp.

“What are we gonna do?” she asks, nearly stumbling. Sephiroth tightens his grip on her hand, making sure not to hurt her, and helps her up before her knees can touch the hard stairs.

“I will deal with them. Don’t worry.”

“Seph, I don’t want them to shoot you!”

“I’m strong, remember? I fought way worse things in Wutai.”

He keeps his voice low, because there is a door at each landing leading straight back into the Shinra Building. If someone hears them, it’s over, because in that case he will have to kill people, and then _more_ people will come and he won’t be able to stop Shinra from following them if he stays with Aerith and Ifalna to keep them safe.

After what feels like an eternity, they reach the ground floor. Sephiroth is fine, but Aerith is breathing hard and he can see how tired she is. Ifalna seems to have recovered a little after resting on Sephiroth’s back, but she is still pale and there are dark circles under her once-bright eyes.

“We’re almost out.” he says, opening the metal door an inch to check the situation in the dark tunnel leading outside. “There are two guards over there, see? I will cast Sleepel on them, too, and then you will just have to reach the station. Oh!”

He gently lays Ifalna on the floor, helping her rest her back against the wall, then takes two IDs out of his inner pocket. He hands them to the woman, who jumps at the sight of them.

“I stole them from two employees.” Sephiroth explains. “You will need them to travel by train, otherwise the automatic system on board will sound the alarm. I read that in a guide of the city.”

“Thank you.” Ifalna is smiling at him, breathless, her life pouring out of her even though she has no wounds. Maybe they are internal, Sephiroth thinks with horror and grief striking his soul.

“But…! But what about you?!” Aerith cries out, ignoring Sephiroth when he presses his index finger on his mouth, telling her to be quieter. “Seph, aren’t you coming with us?!”

“No.” He swallows the despair that single word causes him to feel. Oh, he _wants_ to go with them so much, so much it hurts! Living with Aerith and Ifalna, not having to see them subjected to experiments every day anymore; all three of them free to live as they please, with no war and blood dripping into their existence with each breath he takes.

But how can he? He knows Shinra will already try to track the two Ancients down as things are now – if he followed them, then the company would truly stop at nothing to find them, making sure they would never be able to flee again.

He remembers Hojo’s words spoken years ago, his threats against Ifalna and Aerith, the promise Sephiroth made him. He swore to behave, to be the perfect weapon, so that they could live with less pain.

“I can’t go with you, Aerith.” he tries to explain, but she is shaking, tears of sorrow and rage streaming down her reddened cheeks.

“Then I don’t wanna leave! Not without you!”

He frowns, angered by the danger she wants to put herself and her mother in. He points at Ifalna, who has managed to stand up, albeit her knees are wobbling.

“Your mother needs help!” he says, raising his voice just a little, enough to show the seriousness of the situation and the need to think rationally to Aerith. “And I refuse to let you two stay in this forsaken place any longer!”

“You must leave, too!” she insists, fussing during the worst possible moment. She even stomps her foot on the ground. “You _must_ , Seph!”

“Stop it!” he hisses, now pressing his finger on her mouth. “Stop being so stubborn! They will never let you live in peace if I come with you!”

“I don’t care!” Aerith sobs, grabbing his hand and refusing to let him go. Her voice cracks as she turns to her mother. “Mom! Mom, please, tell him something!”

Ifalna’s eyes meet Sephiroth’s. There is pain etched on her face, caused not by her physical conditions, but by the boy’s decision. It’s the grief of a mentor, of a dear friend, of a mother who knows his mind cannot be changed.

“Please, dear child.” she tries, because she can’t do otherwise. She too imagined a life outside with him and Aerith growing together, their innocent love blossoming into a true, strong one over the years, with she watching over their union.

Sephiroth shakes his head, eyes glossy with tears, his lower lips slightly shaking. It’s a wonder that he can still show his emotions so openly after the terrible months spent in Wutai.

He quietly moves into the tunnel before Aerith can cry harder. He summons Sleepel in his hand and aims it at the two guards standing right where the city lights meet the darkness of the tunnel. They fall asleep in a few seconds, dropping on the ground, and he runs back to the door.

“Go!” he whispers, helping Ifalna run along the tunnel, while Aerith struggles with her mother’s hard grip on her hand.

This is the end, he thinks. Tomorrow morning, there won’t be tight hugs to greet him, no laughter will fill the room with the mural, there won’t be soft cheeks to kiss nor kind green eyes to get lost into.

 _I’m all alone, now_ , he weeps in his heart, shivering, trembling harder than he ever trembled the first times he was put in the training room to fight against Hojo’s monsters.

“No!” Aerith shrieks, grabbing his sleeve, her short nails scratching his skin when she tries to take his hand instead. “Seph, please, don’t leave us!”

 _Oh, Aerith, I’m so sorry!_ he screams inside, looking down at her even though his sight is all blurred by tears. _I left you alone, too. Months spent fighting far away, while you and your mother were hurt. I should have acted sooner._

He doesn’t find the courage nor the strength to tell her so, but Ifalna somehow knows what words are in his mind, for she turns to him and cups his cheek.

They are on the edge between darkness and light, the end of the tunnel, with Midgar’s lamps and the Shinra Building filling the scene beyond Ifalna and Aerith’s silhouettes, the wet dark squelching behind Sephiroth.

“You are such a kind person.” Ifalna says, repeating what she has told him so many times before as if to make sure he would believe her words. “Sephiroth, we can do it if we are together. Come with us.”

“Please!” Aerith sobs, tugging at his sleeve, her face all red and wet with tears and snot.

“You will be safer without me.” he says, even though the words burn like acid in his mouth and his whole self rebels against the idea of being without his two dear friends.

He tries to imagine his future life – traveling back and forth from the Shinra Building to Wutai, with nothing to look forward to, spending time alone with _Hojo_ and his damned assistants every day spent in Midgar…

But Aerith and Ifalna finally don’t appear in his mental images of the labs. He can finally remove them, both physically and mentally, from that awful place, and imagine a brighter future for them, one where no needles will ever pierce their skin again, where Aerith’s children won’t be experimented upon just because they are…

 _Just because they are ours_ , he thinks with resignation.

Oh, Sephiroth now knows what Hojo meant with those cryptic words spoken after his outburst years ago.

He knew the moment he saw some Shinra soldiers try to force themselves on Wutain women; he knew the moment he killed them with a single blow of his Masamune and threatened to cut his men’s dicks off if they ever dared to do something like that again.

He knew, he understood, when he saw pregnant women on the TV, when he learned more about the concept of family from Ifalna, when he looked at himself in the mirror and found an adult teen – a dangerous mix created by war and suffering - staring back at him.

He understood when he noticed the odd gaze of Scarlet studying his body, when he overheard Hojo say something about ‘Cetra’ and ‘breeding’, when his daydreaming would lead him to scenes of love and family shared with a grown-up Aerith in front of a fire, in the wilderness outside Midgar, in a safe haven far from everything and everyone that ever hurt them.

But those were fantasies, stupid and useless. Should he really decide to live them, they would last a heartbeat, the shadow of Shinra too long and dark to be avoided forever.

“Go.” he whispers, smiling despite the despair tearing his insides apart. He kneels to be at Aerith’s eye level and better tell her what he wants her to know and remember.

“Seph!” she wails, biting her lips, her hand finding the sturdy material of his shirt. “Seph, you said we would stay together forever!”

He takes her face in his hands, gentle and soft like the petals of a flower, and kisses the tip of her nose. “I’m sorry, Aerith. But I love you and your mom too much to watch you being in danger any longer.” 

“But…!”

“Find somewhere safe in Midgar and lie low for a while, then leave as soon as your mom feels better.”

He takes a deep breath to stop his tears from spilling out. His mouth is dry, his hands are shaking. He is on a living Planet which possesses a soul and a voice, and yet he has never felt more lost and alone.

“And _live_ , Aerith, promise me that! Promise me you will live and thrive like your flowers!”

She hiccups and chokes on her tears, but she nods all the same. She jumps into his arms and hugs him tightly, her nose pressed against his neck. Sephiroth kisses her hair and commits to memory her burning touch, the texture of her dress, the sound of her voice as she begs him to find her and her mother again.

“Go, now.” he says, mustering all his courage and willpower to gently pry her hands from his shirt and pull her back into Ifalna’s arms. “Go!”

“Thank you, my dear child.” Ifalna’s kiss on his forehead burns like a blessed mark. Her breath still smells like blood, but Sephiroth is grieving too much to realize she is going to die soon.

He watches them run away, away from the wretched Shinra Building that kept them trapped in a laboratory for so long. He watches until he can’t see Aerith look back at him anymore, until Ifalna’s dress disappears behind a corner, until his eyes sting so much, he can’t keep them open.

And then he slowly makes his way back to the room with the mural, dragging his feet, Masamune shining at his side like a slice of moonlight, a silver tear, a wound in the darkness.

\- - - -

Half an hour later, the guards of the security room sound the alarm.

They claim to have fallen asleep all at the same time, that a camera in the corridor has been destroyed, and that several minutes are missing from the security footage.

Hojo and President Shinra run into the Ancients’ room, their faces pale, both for different reasons.

Hojo freezes when he sees Sephiroth sitting in front of the mural, admiring its colours and shapes. The President approaches the young boy with his fists clenched, his eyes holding only fury and contempt.

“Where are they?”

“I don’t know.” Sephiroth doesn’t even turn to look at him. He hates the President nearly as much as he hates Hojo.

“Liar! You helped them escape, didn’t you? You _stupid creature_!”

“They left me behind.” It hurts Sephiroth to say that terrible lie – as if Ifalna and Aerith would ever do such a thing! -, but doubt appears on the President’s face for a second.

“Impossible.” he mutters, eyeing Sephiroth up and down. “Hojo wrote in his reports that your relationship with them was good.”

“Even better than that.” Hojo corrects him from the door, his eyes moving back and forth from Sephiroth to the mural.

“Why wouldn’t he go with them, then?”

“To protect them.”

Hojo walks to Sephiroth and bends in that creepy way of his to study his face. The boy ignores him, pretends he isn’t there. He has eyes for the mural only.

“You really don’t know where they are, do you?”

“No. I told you, I didn’t help them.”

“Who destroyed the camera, then? Who disabled the security stream?”

“I have no idea.”

The President, unsettled by Sephiroth’s flat, calm tone, shakes his head.

“Maybe he _is_ telling the truth, Hojo. There could a spy or a traitor who helped them from the inside.”

“The only traitor here is _him_.” Hojo’s voice is full of venom and disappointment. He slides ever closer to Sephiroth, but the boy doesn’t even squirm.

“Do you know the lengths we went through to find those two?” the scientist says softly, and there is almost a hint of _pity_ in his voice which unnerves Sephiroth. “Do you know how important they were to our project? How important _Aerith_ was going to be to _you_?”

“She is already important to me.” Sephiroth snaps, betraying the pain swirling and churning inside. “And we would have never made love only for you to take it all away.”

“Love!” Hojo laughs, his bony shoulders shaking. “What do you know of love, boy?”

Sephiroth turns to glare at him. He could kill him, no, kill them _both_ , here and now. And then he would go find Aerith, bring Ifalna to a great place where she would heal for sure, and then… and then…

“Careful, Sephiroth.” Hojo grins, reading his mind. “You aren’t made for that life. The only thing you know is war.”

“Shut up.” the boy hisses. “There is nothing stopping me, now.”

“Where would you even go? What would you even do? Work as a fisherman in Mideel, you, with your scary eyes and scary strength? Work in the fields of a Chocobo ranch, while praying that no person from Wutai will ever recognize you and burn you and Aerith alive for having burned _their_ towns?”

Sephiroth swallows, his mouth set in a tight line. There is a fog in his mind, a red fog full of misery and rage.

“Or perhaps you would flee to the north like Gast did.” Hojo’s eyes gleam like beads behind his glasses, his teeth shiny like tiny fangs in the dim light of the room. “Ah, yes, poor Gast! He tried to protect Ifalna and Aerith just like you’re doing now.”

Sephiroth’s mouth hangs open and Hojo laughs again, enjoying every second.

“Yes, indeed! The scientist you admired so much abandoned it all, abandoned _you_ , to flee with the Ancient. And then he _fucked_ her in the snow and fooled himself into thinking we would never find out.”

“Shut up!” Sephiroth shouts, sitting up. His head feels heavy, his lungs full of fire and water. “Don’t you dare!”

“And I bet,” Hojo concludes, his grin like a festering wound on his face, a fissure in his sallow skin, “that you wanted to do the same with Aerith once the right time came.”

“ _Shut up!_ ”

Sephiroth lunges, seizing Hojo by his white coat while the scientist laughs and laughs. He doesn’t even try to push him away, and Sephiroth roars and sobs at the same time, his long fingers clawing at the scientist’s face, while the world around them rings without pause.

“They are safe!” Sephiroth cries, Hojo’s blood running down his nails, coating his hands. “They are safe from you! I don’t care what you tell me, what matters is that _they are safe!_ ”

“Not if we find them again.” President Shinra intervenes, glaring at him, at his humanity.

“If you do that, I will never lift a finger for you and your stupid war again!” Sephiroth swears, letting Hojo go to walk closer to the bigger man. The President steps back, sudden fear in his eyes.

“I may have no future outside of this Gaia forsaken place,” the young boy hisses, his throat tight with tears never allowed to spill, a pressure on his chest similar to a tumour growing inside, “but I _will_ make sure you never get your dirty hands on Aerith and Ifalna again.”

Silence falls in the room, broken only every few seconds by Hojo’s heavy breathing as he cleans his bloody face with a handkerchief. Then President Shinra grunts and nods, acknowledging Sephiroth’s power.

“Alright, young man. While you will offer us the whole set of your _astounding_ abilities, we will just… monitor the Ancients from afar.” He turns to Hojo, who has clearly lost a great part of his respect after letting the Ancients escape. “I assume you collected a good majority of the data we needed during these years?”

“Yes.” the scientist simply replies, all humour suddenly gone from him.

“Good, then.” The President offers Sephiroth his hand to shake, and he does, his green and blue eyes promising vengeance if the deal won’t be respected.

The President rubs his hand against his pants before leaving, as if Sephiroth’s touch was unholy or dangerous; Hojo follows him without even sparing a glance to the boy, his gaunt cheeks full of scratches, the collar of his coat dirty with blood.

 _Good._ Sephiroth thinks as he watches the door close. _Go rot in your laboratory, you bastard._

He sits back in front of the mural and his mind and heart refuse to think about Gast, to absorb Hojo’s words. If he does that, his pain would become unbearable.

But why should he even be sad or angry about Gast’s escape? he asks himself after a while. The Professor did the right thing – he was right in trying to build a better life outside of Midgar with Ifalna at his side.

He did the right thing because together they made Aerith, and Sephiroth couldn’t have asked for a better blessing, a better gift from the scientist he admired so much. Not because he thinks Aerith is _his_ – but because her simply being alive is a present in itself.

 _And now you’re safe._ he thinks, his eyes immediately finding the signatures hidden in a corner of the mural. “Sephiroth” and “Aerith”, they read, his handwriting neat and elegant, hers larger and round.

Sephiroth lies down on the floor and places his hand on Aerith’s name, closing his eyes to let sleep finally claim him.

He prays the Planet to let him dream of her and Ifalna, and the Planet hears his prayer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always thought it was so funny that in the OG FF7 the _entirety_ of the Shinra Building could be accessed through stairs where no cameras or guards were :'D Just climb up, find an open door, and you're in! I guess the company is so powerful and feared, no one in their right mind would ever try to attack them, not until Cloud & co., anyway.
> 
> Genesis and Angeal in the next chapter!


	5. Virtue

The following weeks are a nightmare.

Everything reminds Sephiroth of Aerith and Ifalna. Not just their room, but also the labs, the floor with the flowers and huge windows, the pictures they were allowed to take.

These are his most precious keepsakes. A few postcard-like photos, with Aerith smiling, with Ifalna waving at them, with Sephiroth and Aerith hugging and laughing at the camera. Memories of a time forever lost, which he keeps hidden under a broken tile of his room and inside his jacket.

He’s missing some, he realizes at one point, but he doesn’t find them in his friends’ room. Did Ifalna take them, knowing her time in the Shinra Building was coming to a close? Do she and Aerith still have them, wherever they are now?

Sephiroth hopes so. He knows he will never see them again – in a few months, they will probably move far from Midgar, far from Shinra’s nefarious presence. The President will keep them watched, but Sephiroth doubts he will be sent wherever the Ancients will decide to start a new life.

Those pictures, then, could become important memories for them, too, reminders of a friend who loved them more than anyone or anything he ever loved before. In a few years, once Aerith is an adult and a new reality will set around her, she may perhaps look at those photos with what Sephiroth hopes will be fondness and affection.

\- - -

Hojo introduces him to a man called Lazard.

He will be the new director and supervisor of SOLDIER, they tell Sephiroth. He reminds him of someone, but he cannot be sure.

Lazard’s manners are amicable, albeit a bit tense, and he shakes Sephiroth’s hand with a big smile and a nod of his head.

“I heard many good things about you, Sephiroth.” he says. “I hope we will become good friends.”

Sephiroth doesn’t answer – the only friends he needs are Aerith and Ifalna, but he doesn’t want to embarrass this new man, and his relationship with Hojo is already strained enough as it is. He and the scientist barely speak after their last fight and Sephiroth often catches him staring with an odd light in his eyes.

So he just shakes Lizard’s hand harder and cracks a small smile in return.

\- - -

“We decided to divide the SOLDIER unit into three ranks, or classes.” Lazard tells him the next morning in his new office. “Your fame is spreading, Sephiroth. More and more people want to become like you, but not all of them can withstand the enhancing effects of Mako since from the start. We will have to take things gradually.”

“What do you want me to do?” Sephiroth asks, a question he has been repeating often as of late, much like a machine.

“Well…” Lazard pushes his glasses up with a slender finger. “What about starting from the bottom like in any other army? This way, more people will want to dedicate themselves to the program and you won’t be subjected to any…” He makes a strange face, clearly embarrassed. “… criticism.”

Sephiroth smiles. He has noticed how well-mannered Lazard is – almost to the point of awkwardness - and the poor man always tries to put people at ease. Sephiroth finds it nice, especially after spending so many years in Hojo and Hollander’s anxiety-inducing company.

“I will start from the 3rd Rank, then?”

“Yes, if you agree. Otherwise, we could always…”

“No, it’s a good idea. I don’t want to be treated as if I’m special.”

Sephiroth looks down, blushing, as soon as those words leave his mouth. He _is_ special; he realized that a long time ago, when he was a little child who could still cry freely. Everything about him is odd, abnormal, out of the ordinary. He is not like other young boys. He will never be like the other SOLDIERs.

Thankfully, Lazard isn’t as wicked as Hojo or as tactless as Hollander. He doesn’t comment on Sephiroth’s choice of words – instead, he smiles and pats Sephiroth’s shoulder, and the boy doesn’t flinch or step back.

“Good! No more commanding troops until you’ve reached 2nd Rank, then.”

Sephiroth’s chest is loose with relief. He never liked giving orders.

“Really?”

“Yes.” Lazard laughs, seeing his reaction. “Yes. You will work with just two more SOLDIERs of your same Rank, undertaking much less difficult missions. The ones you faced until now will be Shinra’s veteran troops’ responsibility for a while.”

“Alright.” Sephiroth sighs in relief again, then eyes the papers on Lazard’s desk. “Did you already form the teams?”

He is nervous. He isn’t used to working with only a few people. He and his two new teammates will have to spend many months in Wutai, camping together, eating and sleeping under the stars or in the conquered towns, sharing everything, from the very air to the thoughts in their heads. He never had any male friends before, and he isn’t sure he can make some.

“Yes, I did.” Lazard takes one page from his desk, but doesn’t show it to Sephiroth, preferring to smile instead.

“Don’t worry. You will get along with your colleagues greatly, I’m sure of it.”

\- - -

“I can’t believe it! We’ll be working with _you_?”

The red-haired boy is grinning so much, it’s a wonder his face hasn’t split in half by now.

“You’re _Sephiroth_! I saw you on TV every day! You’re so, _so_ _awesome_!”

Sephiroth squirms a little under the boy’s stare and praise. The soldiers he used to lead before never talked to him this way. He doesn’t know what to say.

“It’s that Masamune? It is, isn’t it? It looks so cool! Does it weight much? Can I touch it? Do you find it hard to carry?”

“Genesis.” the boy next to him, black-haired with serious blue eyes, tugs at his friend’s sleeve. “Genesis, stop it, you’re embarrassing him!”

“What? No, I’m not!” Genesis’ pout turns into a surprised expression when he turns to Sephiroth and notices his uneasiness. “I’m not, right?”

“No.” Sephiroth lies, wanting to make a good first impression. He even manages to smile despite his huge anxiety. “Pleasure to meet you.”

He offers his hand to shake and Genesis is the first to do it, his grin coming back with a vengeance. The black-haired boy is next and he introduces himself with a polite bow of his head.

“It’s a pleasure for us, too. I’m Angeal.”

Sephiroth has seen the familiarity and easiness the two boys share with each other. He feels a pang of envy and sorrow, because they remind him of the relationship he used to have with sweet Aerith.

“Do you know each other?” he asks, wanting to make sure, as if a masochistic part of him wants to suffer more.

“Yes, we’re from the same village.” Genesis answers, hands on his hips in a proud pose. “Banora. I’m sure you heard about it.”

Sephiroth frowns, trying to recall his geography lessons and the things he read in his beloved books, but nothing comes to mind.

“Really?” Genesis is shocked, almost offended. “You never drank our famous apple juice? The Banora White juice?”

“No.”

Sephiroth is embarrassed again. Food in the labs has always been stale, without any real taste behind it. Its only purpose is to give enough nutrients to be strong and healthy, and the best thing Sephiroth has tasted in his life has only ever been the occasional candy or bar of chocolate Hojo felt he deserved after a particularly hard day or mission.

“Wow, I thought it was all the rage in Midgar.” Angeal intervenes, looking as stunned as Genesis, but he smiles when he notices Sephiroth’s blush and shy, downturned gaze. “It’s okay, though! I guess you had better things to think about than drinks.”

“Angeal, there is _nothing_ better than my juice.”

Sephiroth raises an eyebrow at Genesis.

“Your juice?”

The red-haired SOLDIER strikes what Sephiroth assumes it’s supposed to be a sophisticated and elegant pose, even though the other boy is still a bit too short and awkward to look good while doing it. Maybe in a few years, once he has completely lost the baby fat on his cheeks.

“I, Genesis Rhapsodos, am the brilliant inventor behind the Banora White apple juice! I won a contest, bringing our town much needed fame and success.”

Angeal sighs and rolls his eyes with a patient smile.

“Ignore him. He’s always like this, but he means well.”

“Hey!”

Genesis smacks Angeal’s head, and the two boys laugh together, referencing old, shared jokes, of which Sephiroth knows nothing. He watches them interact with growing shyness and sadness, his mind bringing up scenes of Aerith laughing against his chest, of Ifalna pulling them both into the perfumed warmth of her arms.

“I’ll ask my mom to send me some Banora Whites for you.” Genesis suddenly says, and Sephiroth snaps out of it. A selfish part of him hoped his teammates would be orphans just like him, so that they could share the same pain and loneliness, but it seems that’s not the case, at least as far as Genesis is concerned.

“It’s okay.” Sephiroth says, shaking his head, retreating into his shell. Since Aerith and Ifalna escaped, he has become quieter, more closed off, living in a world inside his heart made of precious memories and photos.

“I insist!” Genesis playfully punches his arm, probably an amicable gesture, but it makes Sephiroth flinch all the same. It seems only Angeal notices it, though, because Genesis continues talking at full speed as if nothing happened.

“We call them ‘dumbapples’, you know? Because they grow randomly during the year, and you never know when you’ll be able to harvest them.”

“They’re pretty sweet.” Angeal says gently, moving closer to Sephiroth with a kind smile on his face. “The juice Genesis made out of them is even sweeter.”

“It’s _delicious._ ” the red-haired boy corrects him with fake haughtiness. “That’s why everyone liked it and it sells so well.”

The three boys keep talking until it’s their turn to use the virtual training room. Sephiroth will be allowed to use his Masamune again only after reaching the first Rank – for now, he will have to go back to the standard sword he used in his training sessions before joining the war.

It’s clear he is on a whole another level compared to Genesis and Angeal, though – the former is quick and elegant, but lacks real strength and his hits never hurt much. Angeal is stronger, there is real bulk behind his weight, but he is slow and Sephiroth can see he has never been trained by an expert.

They look up to him for guidance and advice. Genesis says how he has studied all his moves on TV, while Angeal has read anything related to him he could put his hands on.

Sephiroth quickly corrects all the wrong assumptions and fake news the media spread about him: no, he isn’t ambidextrous; no, he never engaged Wutai’s Water God in battle; no, he didn’t defeat an entire Wutain troop all by himself in a forest at night; yes, he can be wounded and bleed like any other person.

“Why do they tell so many lies about you?” Genesis asks after the training, looking at him with less adoration and more normal fondness, which Sephiroth definitely prefers.

“I don’t know.”

“It must be tiring.” Angeal says softly, sheathing his sword as the room goes back to normal and the illusion around them fades. “I bet fans bother you all the time in Midgar.”

“I never visited it.” Sephiroth regrets saying that as Genesis and Angeal stare at him with shock.

“ _Never_?”

“I thought you were from Midgar! Weren’t you born there?”

“I…” Sephiroth fiddles with the hilt of his standard sword, his heart racing. He supposes he _could_ consider Midgar his hometown – technically, he has been raised in the city.

But what if he was actually born somewhere else and then brought to the labs, just like it happened to Aerith? What if his hometown is Mideel or Kalm or Nibelheim? What if he has relatives believing him dead, someplace far from Midgar?

He often wondered that, and even asked Ifalna for advice. The kind woman didn’t have an answer for him, of course, but she was sure he would find out the truth someday.

“Hojo might have lied to you.” he remembers her saying. “Perhaps your parents are still alive, and he lied to keep you anchored here.”

“Listen.” Angeal - whom Sephiroth already knows to be extremely kind and thoughtful - smiles at him and rests a hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t we go visit it together? Genesis and I already know some good places where you can eat all you want without spending a fortune.”

Shame colours Sephiroth’s cheeks. He knows the other SOLDIERs receive a salary, but the President thought he wouldn’t need one, since he lives in the Shinra Building and has no expenses.

Sephiroth was never really hurt or bothered by this, but now a great sense of justice awakens within him. It’s another proof of his diversity, of his otherness, and he thinks of the only thing he ever bought in his life, the pink ribbon for Aerith, purchased with Wutain gil his men looted from corpses.

Angeal senses his embarrassment and grins, patting his shoulder again.

“We’ll pay for lunch! To celebrate our meeting!”

“Yes, don’t worry about money.” Genesis’ smile is kind, too, as if he is used to paying for everyone every time he goes out. “Just wear some comfortable shoes. The Upper Plates are so big, we couldn’t walk for hours after our first visit.”

Sephiroth finally smiles back, feeling more at ease. He knows Hojo will probably ask him countless questions upon his return to study his psychological reactions, but he doesn’t care. He wants to be like other people for once in his life.

\- - -

Genesis lends him a pair of sunglasses and a hat to better hide his identity, but it’s a lost cause. As soon as Sephiroth steps foot into a Sector of the Upper Plate, all eyes are on him, on his silver hair, on his toned arms and full lips.

People whisper and murmur as he and his teammates walk among them. He sees pointing fingers, open mouths, and hears giggles and gasps of wonder and surprise. He hangs his head low, while Genesis and Angeal do their best to shield him with their bodies, but Sephiroth is taller than most at his age.

He spots a stand selling promotional posters with his face on them. He remembers having to pose for those pictures, but it’s the first time he sees the final product. There are girls, boys, and even grown women buying it, while the seller shouts to attract the crowd’s attention.

“Come buy exclusive posters of Sephiroth, the first member of the new SOLDIER program, the invincible warrior who will make Wutai kneel!”

He groans and pulls Genesis and Angeal away from the stand, even though he’s pretty sure they saw all that stuff as soon as they stepped into Midgar.

“I guess that’s what happens when you’re a hero.” Angeal sighs, shaking his head at the fangirls and fanboys asking for posters with different poses.

“I’m not a hero.” Sephiroth snaps, the very word causing a shiver of disgust to run up his spine. A hero doesn’t kill people in the very homeland they are trying to protect from invaders. A hero doesn’t set fire to ancient, precious temples.

“You will be someday.” Genesis says, and it sounds like a dark omen to Sephiroth.

\- - -

He doesn’t like the crowded streets of Upper Midgar, but the shops look nice and for the first time in his life, he’s able to see how normal people live in person, with no television screen between him and the world.

He instinctively looks for Aerith and Ifalna, even though he knows they would never find shelter so close to the Shinra Building. Also, he would never want them to stay in this hellhole – he prays with all his heart that Ifalna got better and that she and Aerith successfully managed to reach another continent.

Still, he misses them so much he feels like his heart is going to crumble and turn into dust, and he cannot help but search for Aerith’s bright eyes and Ifalna’s chestnut hair.

\- - -

Genesis and Angeal bring him to a small restaurant hidden in a narrow alleyway.

Sephiroth observes and goes first-hand through the simple, yet intricate process of choosing a table, studying a menu, and waiting for the order to arrive after giving it to a waiter.

He sits with his hands on his lap like Gast taught him, and his elbows never touch the table when he eats. He doesn’t ask for seconds, since he isn’t the one paying, and he offers Genesis and Angeal to take a bite of his food.

“You’re so polite.” Genesis observes with an amused smile. “I had to act like that whenever my parents invited someone important to our house, too.”

“Is this not how everyone eats?” Sephiroth asks, looking around with a confused gaze. It’s true that Genesis and Angeal move differently from him, but he thought Gast’s teachings about manners were somewhat universal.

“No.” Angeal laughs with his mouth full. “You’re very delicate and neat. Look at the mess _I_ made on my side of the table!”

“Ugh, who cares.” Genesis groans. “I’ve had enough of stuff like this. My mother drilled it into me since I was an _infant_.”

 _Lucky you._ Sephiroth thinks, but he doesn’t say it out loud.

“Do you like the food?” Angeal asks through a mouthful of a large slab of bloody meat with an odd name.

Sephiroth looks down at his spicy rice with pork in a bowl, with crispy vegetables on the side. He adored it, and he says so with a smile.

“Good!” Genesis and Angeal beam at him, as if they just succeeded at their first real mission.

“I can’t believe they don’t sell any Banora White juice, though…” Genesis adds after a while, grumbling, making the other two boys laugh.

Later, Sephiroth watches carefully as Genesis pays. He has seen money before, but only on TV. There is no need for it in the labs, much less in Wutai where things must be conquered, not purchased.

“Could you teach me how to use it?” he asks shyly, pointing at the gil, as they move into the empty alleyway.

Genesis and Angeal share a surprised look, but it soon passes. They smile at him, kind and patient, and together they head to a nearby square. There, on a bench far from all the others, they show Sephiroth the different coins and bills, their value, the best ways to make quick calculations for change and not get swindled.

“I heard they barter things down in the slums.” Angeal says with a sad frown.

“The slums? You mean the Lower Plates?” Sephiroth has read about them in the books and guides he has at his disposal, but he knows things are much worse down there than what Shinra wants people to believe.

“Yes. We actually had to pass through their Sectors when we first arrived here.” Angeal shakes his head, his eyes distant and empty. “It’s a terrible place.”

“Filthy and full of monsters.” Genesis adds, and Sephiroth is glad to see there is no disgust or judgment on his face, only bitterness. “People live inside containers and pieces of machinery fallen from the Upper Plates. There is rubble and trash everywhere.”

Sephiroth frowns, his hatred for Shinra growing.

“Why don’t they do anything about it?”

“What do you expect those poor people to do?” Angeal asks, raising an eyebrow. “It’s terribly hard to climb up the social ladder, you know? Especially when those above you keep pushing you down.”

“No, I meant Shinra. Why don’t they do anything to help those people?”

“Hah!” Angeal sounds angry for the first time. “No way! They don’t care about them!”

“Shinra only cares about money and power.” Genesis shrugs. “Didn’t you notice?”

“Yes.” Sephiroth looks down at his shoes, his voice soft and tired. “It was a stupid question.”

Genesis and Angeal are about to reassure him, when a horde of people suddenly descends upon them.

They are squealing fans of Sephiroth who recognized him from afar and found the courage to approach him. Some even reach out to touch him and steal strands of hair, others ask for autographs and pictures. He’s so shocked, so taken aback, that he cannot speak or move for a second.

Then he reacts in the worst possible way. He pushes the crowd surrounding him away and flees, running through the large streets of Upper Midgar while Genesis and Angeal follow him and call after him, chased by the overexcited girls and boys who hope to bask in the invincible warrior’s silver light.

\- - -

He hates that he finds shelter in the very place he considers his cage, the Shinra Building, but the fans don’t dare follow him there - they are stopped by the guards who have been stationed at the front entrance since Aerith and Ifalna’s escape.

“They’re relentless!” Angeal exclaims, panting hard, as he leans against a column of the main hall. “Look at them, they’re squishing their faces against the windows!”

Sephiroth hides behind another column, shaking hard. He has never been good around too many people, but after the hellish months spent in Wutai, he has gotten even worse at dealing with too many bodies and voices surrounding him.

“Are you okay?” Genesis asks him with a concerned look, kneeling down to touch his back. “That was the first time you met your fans, right?”

“I hated it.” Sephiroth whispers, his voice cracking a little. He’s glad the guards are busy outside and that nobody else is there in the ground floor. He knows the rumours of him nearly crying and breaking down would reach the upper floors, where Hojo and the President dwell.

“I know, it sucked.”

Sephiroth laughs weakly, sniffling, but refusing to let his tears fall. Genesis and Angeal sit next to him at his sides, all three shielded by the large column and its shadow.

“You’re different from what I thought.” Angeal says, while Genesis nods slowly in agreement.

A strange kind of fear grips Sephiroth’s heart and he tenses up, looking at the dark-haired boy out of the corner of his eye.

“In a bad way?”

“No, no! In a good way, actually.”

“Yes, the Shinra videos portray you being so cold, almost cruel.” Genesis says, smoothing the wrinkles on his pants. “We were scared we would become like that after joining the battle in Wutai. But you’re actually really kind and nice.”

“The war did change me, though.” Sephiroth murmurs, thinking of his nervous tics, of the way he flinches whenever he hears a loud sound, of his nightmares, of his short answers. He knows Genesis and Angeal will go through the same, too, and that inescapable fact saddens him beyond words. He will know another version of them in the near future, and he will probably have to say goodbye to the current one.

“Is… Is it very bad?” Genesis suddenly sounds very insecure and afraid, and Sephiroth notices only now the chewed fingernail of his thumb, while all his other nails are perfectly well-cared for.

“Yes.” he answers honestly. If they are going to fight together, he must prepare them for what is to come. He cannot hide this reality from them.

“I never killed someone.” Angeal says quietly, wrapping his tanned arms around his knees. “I only ever stole some apples for my mom.”

Sephiroth feels bad for these two innocent boys who grew up among apple orchards. He cannot believe they seriously signed up for the SOLDIER program – why would they do that, they who have a family, parents caring for them, a home to take care of?

“Why did you come here?” he asks, his voice hoarse, his blood rushing hot in his veins. He already knows the answer, he realizes, and he closes his eyes with a tremendous feeling of nausea consuming him when Genesis answers.

“To be like you.”

“Stupid.” he murmurs, opening his eyes, now wetter than before. “Nobody should ever be like me.”

“Why? You’re kind and strong!” Genesis sounds sad and worried for him, and Sephiroth exhales, trying to push back the tears.

“ _Everyone_ wants to be like you!” Angeal agrees, placing a hand on Sephiroth’s arm with extreme care to avoid startling him. “Why is that a bad thing? You’re a good guy!”

_You are such a kind person._

_Seph, we’re gonna stay together forever, right?_

Sephiroth bites his lips and rummages into the internal pocket of his jacket. He retrieves one of his precious photos, one of his favourites. He and Aerith, smiling at the camera, holding hands.

“Oh, she’s pretty!” Genesis leans closer to look at Aerith’s pink face. “Is she your girlfriend?”

A deep blush tints Sephiroth’s cheeks, and the two other boys laugh without malice, patting his back and elbowing him. They are able to make him smile and he shakes his head with a snort.

“No. Yes. I don’t know. I promised her I would marry her once adults, though.”

“Then she _is_ your girlfriend, duh!”

“Where is she now?” Angeal gently asks, and Sephiroth’s smile slowly fades.

“Away. Far from here.”

“I’m sure you’ll see her again someday.” Angeal sounds so sure and optimistic, Sephiroth can’t help but believe him. “For now, you’re stuck with us!”

“Don’t tell him that, poor Sephiroth, or he’s really going to cry!”

Sephiroth laughs, a real laugh that shakes his body. Genesis and Angeal grin at him, victorious again, and he thanks Gaia for having sent him two new friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is going to be a timeskip in the next chapter, and Sephiroth and Aerith will finally meet again ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


	6. Dominion

The years pass.

Sephiroth grows into a tall, strong man. Incredibly handsome, too, or so he hears, even though he cannot see anything handsome in his weird cat-like eyes. He does like his long, silver hair, though.

His friendship with Genesis and Angeal doesn’t change, despite their differences. They fight, train, laugh, and eat together, in Wutai and Midgar, and Sephiroth almost feels normal again. He has jokes to share and memories in common with them, now, and he feels he can confide in them, just like they can always go to him for anything they may need.

Genesis has turned into a stylish young man, his hardcover copy of LOVELESS always kept in a pocket of his crimson jacket. He is surrounded by women and men yearning for his attention, and he is generous enough to give it to them, even though he never lets anyone stay for too long.

Sometimes Sephiroth envies him, because he looks so confident around people, so sure of where he stands. Sometimes he wonders if his red-haired friend gained the knowledge and expertise about the world he has from his beloved poem, or if he was simply born like this.

Angeal is quieter, even though no one will ever be as quiet as Sephiroth. He has become stronger, too, and he uses his strength to defend hazy concepts of honour and hope he tries to teach to his friends. Sephiroth listens to him – he always listens to his friends -, but he finds little to admire in their war against Wutai.

They reach 1st Rank of the SOLDIER program and Sephiroth becomes a General, but they don’t celebrate like they thought they would. They go to their usual restaurant - the one they visited during their first meeting when they were barely teens – and eat the usual. Only Genesis looks somewhat prouder than Sephiroth and Angeal, but not that much.

Their fame does grow after their promotion, though – they are the first SOLDIERS who reached the 1st Rank as of now, after all.

“Too many firsts for my taste.” Angeal grumbles when he reads the countless articles about them on the newspaper. Sephiroth agrees with him.

Following that, two fan clubs sprout in the city. Genesis is ecstatic and he basks in the attention and glory with the grace of a theatre actor; Angel bears with his fans with patience and humility, and that makes them love him even more.

Sephiroth discovers that his own fan club has existed since his early childhood. At first, he is confused, angry, mortified. He hears that private information about his life has been circulating for years, and he knows that someone within Shinra is the one offering it to his fans. He soon realizes who this person is – he confronts Hojo, but the madman only laughs in his face and dismisses his protests.

 _Fine._ Sephiroth thinks, furious, but resigned. _I don’t care if the entire city knows about my diet or my favourite colours._

He decides to simply ignores his fans, because he has no idea how to talk to the squealing women craving his attention and how to answer questions without sounding like a fool.

He has become even worse at dealing with people. Many think him aloof, cold, distant, but the truth is – as Genesis reminds him often – that he’s just terribly shy.

He reads the posts about himself in the official forum of his fan club to which he has been _finally_ invited. He does it without answering and commenting, of course, and he makes sure to be always offline, but he reads and reads, until a little part of him starts to think he might not look so bad and that, despite their rude intrusiveness, his fans are actually quite sweet.

He still refuses to take pictures with them, though, and he probably will until the end of time.

“Sephiroth. You need to get _laid_ , my friend.” Genesis tells him one day after he refuses to participate to another fan club meeting he has been invited to. According to Sephiroth’s calculations, this one is the tenth one.

Sephiroth blushes and harrumphs, and the void his two best friends haven’t been able to fill gnaws at his soul.

In all these long years, he has never stopped thinking about Aerith. He often wonders where she might be, how she is doing, what kind of life she leads. He tries to imagine her grown-up, with a job or perhaps tending to the house in her spare time. He imagines himself alongside her in those fantasies, and his heart swells with love, hope, and sorrow.

He has tried to locate her, but Shinra stopped his search multiple times. They know where she is and he knows they are monitoring her like they promised they would, but they have no intention of sharing her whereabouts with him. Perhaps they fear he will hide her so well, they won’t be able to find her anymore.

He doesn’t know, but he has never stop trying and never will.

Genesis and Angeal, knowing how much she means to him despite the relentless passing of time, have made several attempts at finding her as well, but in vain. Sephiroth has no idea what she looks like – she might have changed her name or the colour of her hair to better blend in; maybe she and Ifalna found shelter in the north or in the forgotten forests near Nibelheim where not even Genesis’ fame can reach.

\- - -

“I know she is really important to you.” Genesis starts again one day, as the three of them rest in Angeal’s standard Shinra apartment after playing with apples in the VR room. “But you deserve to live your life fully. I’m sure she did the same – after all, she was just a child when you got separated.”

Sephiroth bites his lip, quiet, and the picture he always carries inside his coat burns like an ember.

“You cannot hang onto memories for the rest of your life, Sephiroth.” his friend insists, ignoring Angeal’s glare telling him to stop. “Why don’t you come to the next meeting of my fan club as a guest of honour? I could introduce you to some fascinating women who would love to meet you.”

“No.” The very idea makes Sephiroth’s stomach churn in disgust. “I am not interested.”

Genesis sighs, looking at him with concern. His studies on _Loveless_ and poetry in general have made him serious about relationships and the meaning of love; he tries to impart his ideas to his friends just like Angeal tries to impart his about honour, but it’s a lost cause.

“You cannot go on like this forever. You spend entire days in the training room, then you are off to Junon to train the new recruits, _then_ to Wutai to continue this senseless war! You never relax, you never meet new people!”

“I don’t need to meet new people.”

“Angeal!” Genesis groans, turning to the dark-haired man. “Please, help me! He is more stubborn than a hungry Chocobo, I swear!”

“Maybe this is his version of a good life.” Angeal says softly, even though he doesn’t look too sure. Genesis glares at him, sensing that, and the other man sighs and rolls his eyes.

“ _Alright_. I admit it doesn’t sound healthy to me either, but…” He shrugs. “Sephiroth isn’t a kid. You can’t force him to live in a way he doesn’t like.”

“Humph.” Genesis narrows his eyes at him, and Angeal sighs again, already knowing where the conversation is leading.

“I bet this counts for you, too, my dear Angeal. You also don’t go out that much after your duties. Am I the only one here who knows how to have a little bit of fun?”

“Your idea of fun is often too loud and indecipherable for us.” Sephiroth snorts, a small smile gracing his lips, and even though Genesis is happy to see it, he pretends to be offended by his words.

“Just because you two _knuckleheads_ cannot appreciate the inherent beauty of the Goddess’ words, it doesn’t mean the plays I watch are…!”

“Confusing? Senseless?” Sephiroth and Angeal share a look and a smile. “Depressing as hell?”

“The Goddess’ teachings are _not_ depressing!”

“The Second Act makes me want to drink bleach.” Sephiroth quips flatly, and his smile returns when Angeal starts laughing and Genesis huffs with a pout.

“I just…!” The red-haired SOLDIER sighs, deflates, and slides further down onto the sofa, suddenly looking much less elegant than before.

“I just want you two to be happy.” he concludes softly, and Sephiroth and Angeal’s eyes snap to him at the speed of light.

A long moment of silence, then Angeal speaks with all the gentleness of the good soul he is: “We know, Genesis.”

“Are _you_ happy?” Sephiroth suddenly asks, the words leaving his mouth before he can stop them.

Genesis blinks, surprised, then smirks, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course! How could I not be? I have two great friends, a good job, fans who love me…”

“And a family.” Sephiroth interrupts him, staring into space, at the empty wall in front of him that Angeal forgot to decorate with something.

“A family who also loves you.” he continues. He isn’t jealous, there is no envy in his words. He is just stating the facts. Of course it is simple for someone like Genesis to be content with his life. Even Angeal, Sephiroth suspects, is satisfied with how things are going right now, despite the life of poverty and hardships he comes from.

“And that’s exactly why you need to meet new people!” Genesis exclaims, shaking Sephiroth out of his reverie. “You have to build _your_ own family! Your parents might be dead, but _you_ are still here and _you_ can create your own life, form your own connections.”

The picture in Sephiroth’s coat seems to burn hotter, and he swallows, looking down at the carpet. He thinks of Hojo’s threat to study his offspring, of his experiments on Ifalna, of his plans for Aerith, of the President’s long influence. He thinks of Aerith herself, of the promise he made her in that floor full of flowers of the Shinra Building.

“I don’t belong to myself.” he answers quietly. 

Genesis and Angeal react in different ways: the former glares at him, outraged; the latter looks sad, worried.

“We are SOLDIERs, too, in case you forgot.” Genesis says, folding his arms on his chest. “We all belong to Shinra, if that’s what you meant.”

“It’s different for you.” Sephiroth narrows his eyes. Their colour is unlike that of Genesis and Angeal’s irises – theirs have a more uniform colour, a precise hue of blue. His are everchanging, ever flowing, going from dark blue to green to a mix of the two.

“Why?” Angeal asks, wanting to understand. Genesis just grows more restless.

“Is it because of your relationship with the Science Department?” he says, noticing how Sephiroth bristles at the mention of that Gaia-forsaken place. “You might have been raised there, but we are part of it, too. All SOLDIERs are.”

“No.” Sephiroth insists, shaking his head. _No, it’s different!_ he screams inside. No one can understand what it was like, growing up like he ( _and Aerith_ ) did.

Genesis and Angeal weren’t experimented on since they were babies. They don’t know what it’s like to live with Hojo and the other scientists, to be an orphan, to be treated like a weapon since from the start of their lives, to be opened like a carcass every few months, to see Ifalna vomit blood, to hear the words “Aerith” and “breed” uttered in the same sentence.

They are his best friends, they went to war together, and he loves them dearly, but there are some things they will never understand.

“Why is it so different for us, then?” Genesis raises his voice. He always gets angry when he cannot fix something.

“Because _it is_!”

Sephiroth is shouting, too, now. He springs up from the sofa and moves to one of the windows, clenching his fists and jaw.

“ _I_ am different! The… The life I lived, the things I saw, the things I did…” He sighs, and his shoulders slump. “How could I give someone a good life? Shinra is constantly watching me, their perfect _poster boy._ ”

“When you say ‘someone’, you mean Aerith, don’t you?” Genesis asks, his tone definitely gentler. Sephiroth doesn’t reply, but the answer is clear all the same. They can see the blush on his ears.

He speaks again after a few heartbeats, his voice as soft as a feather in the silent room.

“I don’t even know my last name nor my exact birthplace. I have no roots.”

“Seph.” Angeal stands up and walks to him, worry and sadness written all over his face. “Seph, don’t speak like that. The start of your life has been hard, but you don’t know its middle nor its end. Things can always get better. Things _will_ get better.”

Sephiroth raises his eyes from the floor to the view outside the window. It’s a rainy, polluted evening in Midgar, as usual.

“Sometimes I think I can see it in my dreams. The future.” he whispers, and for some reason he can’t help but think of Aerith, of the last time he saw her, of the pink ribbon he gave her. He wonders if she still has it. “It’s all so clear for a second, like a clear pond. I think I can understand what I’m seeing, and then…”

“You’re exhausted.” Angeal says, squeezing his shoulder. “Genesis is right, you spend too much time training and fighting. When was the last time you slept for more than two hours?”

“Masamune is always there, descending.” Sephiroth continues, ignoring him. He doesn’t hear Genesis getting up, he doesn’t see the worry grow on Angeal’s face. His voice is full of confusion and fear, and that’s what scares Angeal and Genesis most.

“It’s like a falling star, but I can never see what it hits.” He furrows his brow and slowly shakes his head. “And when I wake up, I _know_ what I saw was the future.”

“Enough! You are creeping me out.” Genesis intervenes, standing at his other side and holding his arm. “Time to go to bed, Seph. Angeal and I will take care of your duties tomorrow. You take the day off.”

“I’m sorry.” Sephiroth sighs and looks at his two friends with shame. “I didn’t mean to shout before.”

“I’m sorry, too.” Genesis hugs him tightly, making him jump a little. Sephiroth still isn’t used to touching people, to such close contact, but Genesis hugs him and Angeal so often, he doesn’t feel the urge to push him away anymore.

“Come on, to bed!” Angeal grins, patting his back. Sephiroth already knows they will discuss about him later, that they will try to find a way to help him. It happened before, and he did that, too, every time he was worried about one of them.

He lets them bring him to his own apartment – he asked for a small thing, since he’s rarely there and doesn’t have the time to keep it tidy -, and he accepts Genesis’ second hug and Angeal’s second pat on his back with a grateful smile.

That night, he dreams of Masamune again.

\- - -

Aerith closes the door behind her and exhales. Another hectic day in Midgar; her basket is almost empty. Only two yellow lilies remain – she thanks them with a soft word and puts them in a vase.

“Hello, dear!” her mother calls from the kitchen. “All’s good?”

“All’s good, Mom!” Aerith peeks from the doorframe to see what her mother is cooking. “Oh, stew! I needed that, it’s so cold outside.”

Elmyra Gainsborough turns to see if she is wet – she gasps and walks to her in quick strides when she sees the dark patches on Aerith’s pink dress.

“Dear, you’re sopping! Go change into something warm and dry before you catch a cold!”

“The rain was nice today.” Aerith says, pressing a comforting kiss on Elmyra’s cheek. “Less dirty than usual. The flowers were happy.”

“You and your flowers.” Elmyra sighs with a fond smile. “Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it. Gaia knows there is little to enjoy down here. But go change, Aerith, please.”

Aerith salutes with her tongue sticking out and dodges her mother’s affectionate pat on her butt with a giggle. She runs upstairs, smiling at the way her heavy boots squelch on the wood, and enters her cosy room.

“Hi, Seph.” she says softly to the huge poster of Sephiroth hanging above her bed.

Her mother bought it for her, after noticing how much her daughter liked the General.

Aerith never dreamed of buying one – she just _knows_ that Sephiroth hated taking those pictures and that he doesn’t approve of the use Shinra is now making of them.

But every time she passed in front of the stands selling them at Wall Market, her eyes would get brighter and a smile would blossom on her blushing face. Soon, her mother noticed that change and guessed the reason.

“I guess he’s pretty dreamy.” she said after helping Aerith paste the poster on her wall. “More… charming than your average SOLDIER.”

“He is so beautiful.” Aerith murmured, lost into Sephiroth’s eyes and serious face. Elmyra laughed, believing it to be a funny crush on a celebrity. But Aerith’s heart always belonged to Sephiroth.

She has seen him grow from a painful distance during the years. The news, newspapers, posters, and pictures posted on forums offered her glimpses of his life and his successes.

She entered his fan club after passing its test with brilliant scores – no one knows more about Sephiroth than she does, and she remembers all his tastes, which she wasn’t surprised to see unchanged despite the passing of time.

She recorded on old VHSs all the speeches he gave on TV – sometimes, when Elmyra isn’t home, she plays them just to see him move and hear his voice again.

He looks tired, sometimes sad, but she knows he’s great friends with two other famous SOLDIERs. It makes her happy, but she also yearns to be at his side, to be his best friend again, to be more than that.

She still remembers his promise. She wonders if he remembers it, too, but he’s so famous and handsome, he probably has a beautiful woman waiting for him every night. A rich woman from the Upper Plates, with stunning looks and expensive dresses.

Aerith also wonders if he ever looked for her. She asked the Planet, but it didn’t give her a clear answer. Does he know where she is? Or does he believe her far away, with Ifalna still at her side? Did Shinra stop him from contacting her? Or has he simply decided to forget about her and go on with his life?

The last option tears her heart apart every time she thinks about it, and so she decides to stop doing that. Sephiroth has always been kind and selfless, and their years together have been blissful, despite the place they were trapped in. He wouldn’t forget her so easily, she is sure of it.

He is _still_ trapped, she reminds herself every day. Still fighting for Shinra, still obeying their orders; probably still subjected to Hojo’s examinations. Sephiroth is so strong and powerful – why hasn’t he rebelled, freed himself?

Aerith knows he doesn’t like the war in Wutai - she saw it in his eyes during a speech, and the Planet confirmed her suspicions. She has seen the kindness still burning strong in his heart; she has caught a precious glimpse of the boy who used to read her geography books describing the world outside Midgar, the boy who would promise her to take her there someday, the boy who loved nature.

She prays the Planet to give him strength and the right chance to free himself from Shinra’s clutches. She will be there for him, ready to catch him in his fall.

\- - -

“It’s raining a lot today.” she says as she unfolds a folding screen she keeps behind her door. She places it in front of Sephiroth’s poster and moves behind it to finally changes into something dry.

She always undresses like that. Not because she is shy of Sephiroth’s serious gaze, but because she feels it wouldn’t be respectful towards him. He never asked for those posters to be printed, she is sure of it. He would never approve of the countless people undressing and masturbating in front of his pictures.

Aerith almost screamed out in rage the first time she read about that. She even saw a stand selling pornographic merchandise of Sephiroth in Wall Market – naked artworks of the great General touching his big cock, smirking seductively, coming on his stomach, or simply in the act of removing his shirt. Rumours say that _those_ posters aren’t official, but Shinra approves of them all the same.

She cried the whole night after coming across that stuff. _How can they treat him like that!_ she thought, sobbing into her pillow. _Oh Planet, hasn’t he been mistreated enough?_

“I sold nearly all my flowers!” she continues cheerfully while she removes her dripping pink dress. “But I think I will move to the Upper Sector 5, tomorrow, and see what I can sell there. Also, my garden in the church is growing nicely. The one here at home needs a little bit more of help, but I’m sure it will become beautiful soon.”

She keeps describing her day to Sephiroth like she does every day. Once she is dressed in her warm pyjamas, she closes the folding screen, tosses her wet clothes into the small laundry basket near her door, then sits on her bed, gazing up at Sephiroth.

“I read you’re training new recruits at Junon. They say you’re strict, but always kind and just.” She smiles, placing a hand on his. The wall underneath the poster is cold.

“I’m very proud of you, Seph. I just wish…” She takes a shaky breath, and the Planet sings comfortingly in her heart. “I just wish there was something I could do for you. I tried reaching the Shinra Building to see you, once, but Mom Elmyra stopped me. And she was right – after everything you did to save me and Mom Ifalna, how could I waste your sacrifice like that?”

She puts her trembling hand on her lap, trying to hold it still with her other one.

“I wish you came with us that day. I wouldn’t have minded living in a cave for the rest of my days to escape from Shinra. As long as we were together, anything would have been perfect.”

She takes another breath and pushes her tears back. He always hated seeing her cry. It always hurt him terribly, and she doesn’t want him to hurt any more than he is already.

“Every day, I pray the Planet to let us meet again. We’re so close, and yet so far.” She looks up at the poster again, and her lips curl into another radiant smile.

“But I’m sure we will see each other again. Soon. And that day, everything will be better.”

\- - -

Somehow, Genesis and Angeal convince Shinra and Hojo to give Sephiroth _three_ days off.

At first, he’s bored out of his mind, almost anxious. He has never had so much spare time on his hands before.

But then he remembers all the books he bought, but never read. He remembers all the TV shows Angeal recommended him. He even manages to sleep for an entire afternoon.

 _Gaia._ he thinks the evening of the third day while taking a luxurious bubble bath, dreading the dawn with all his being. _I think I hate going to work._

His PHS rings and he groans. If it’s Hojo, Sephiroth will kill him. If it’s the President, he will kill him, too. If it’s Lazard, he will just answer very curtly, but politely.

“Yes…?” he says after accepting the call.

“Seph, it’s Angeal. Want to come with us to our usual place? We will celebrate your first vacation ever.”

“Hm.” Sephiroth thinks about the menu. His stomach rumbles.

“Alright. But tell Genesis I am paying.”

\- - -

“Stop staring at that LOVELESS banner, Gen.” Angeal sighs, trying to drag the red-haired man away. “Haven’t you watched that play enough times already?”

“Of course not!” Genesis’ smile makes his two friends groan, because they know what he’s about to say. “I could buy the tickets for you, too! We could go see it together!”

“We already saw it.” Sephiroth reminds him. “ _Thrice_.”

“One can always discover new things after…” Genesis suddenly stops, his eyes set on something in the square. Sephiroth and Angeal, now a bit further away, notice that he isn’t following them and turn to call him again.

“What is it, now?” Angeal asks, hands on his hips like an angry mom. “Come on, Genesis, there are too many people here! You know they will stop us for autographs soon if we don’t move!”

“Genesis, I will buy you that special edition of the poem you wanted so much if you move _now_.” Sephiroth promises, his legs itching with the need to run from that crowded place as soon as possible.

But not even that promise is enough to make Genesis move. He keeps staring and staring, until Sephiroth and Angeal are forced to go back to him to see what caught his attention so completely.

“What? What did you see?” Angeal scans the place, bright blue eyes squinted in concentration. “A cosplay of the Goddess? Is that how they are called, isn’t it? What… _Oh, Gaia!_ ”

“What?” Sephiroth hisses, tensing up. His mind already imagines the worst. Is someone committing a crime? Is there a monster from the slums lurking somewhere?

“Show me!” he insists, elbowing Angeal. “Is someone in danger? What is it?”

“Seph.” Genesis finally speaks, his voice an awed whisper. “Seph, look over there, near that streetlamp. Maybe I’m wrong, but…”

“No, no, it’s _her_!” Angeal whispers back, his fingers gripping Sephiroth’s sleeve. “Sephiroth, look!”

“What are you talking about, I…”

His heart stops. He sees Aerith, now a grown woman, standing under the glow of a streetlamp. A basket full of flowers hangs from her arm – she is selling yellow lilies, a bright, kind smile on her face.

He hears a ringing in his ears. For a moment, he believes he’s going mad. Why is she here, in _Midgar_? Did she never leave? Has she _always_ been here, so close, so close to _him_ , but also to Shinra and Hojo, and _why won’t the ringing stop?_

His feet move, carrying him ever closer to Aerith. She is beautiful, clad in a red jacket and a pink dress, pink just like her ribbon.

The ribbon! She kept it, after all these years!

A painful lump works its way through Sephiroth’s throat as he gets closer. He can hear her voice as she calls out. He can finally hear her again after all this time.

“Lilies! Beautiful lilies, only one gil each!”

The crowd parts for him, the people of Midgar recognizing him immediately. The path towards Aerith is clear and no one dares approach him. They can see how focused, how pale he is.

“Flowers, real flowers! Madam, might I interest you in a lily? They are…”

Aerith stops, suddenly realizing how distracted the people around her are. She follows their gazes, until her bright green eyes fall on Sephiroth’s tall figure.

He is so close, now, that he can hear her gasp and count the small, adorable blemishes on her face. He can see the different hues of brown of her hair. He can see the lily in her hand move gently under the soft, cold breeze.

Sephiroth stops right in front of her. His heart is beating so fast, it’s like it isn’t beating at all. His face burns and his throat is dry, while his eyes are wet, for the first time after many years.

Aerith is crying, too. She lets her tears fall on her cheeks, her smile as radiant as the sun he saw rise from the hills of Wutai.

“Sephiroth!” she whispers in awe and joy, stepping forward until her chest almost touches his. He is so tall, she has to tilt her head up to look at him. He bends his neck forward to make it easier for her.

“The Planet answered my prayer!” she says, her voice as gentle and soft just as he imagined it. He suddenly understands Genesis’ obsession with his Goddess.

Aerith raises her hands and cups his face in them, smiling at him so happily his heart threatens to give up once and for all. Sephiroth slowly, timidly moves his own hands and rests them on her waist.

She is real, she is here, finally in his arms again. His beloved Aerith, coming from the distant past, transformed, grown, but still the same.

“Aerith.” he murmurs, smiling at her, his face red. Her name rolls on his tongue like a prayer, like a hymn full of gratefulness to the Planet. “Aerith. May I have a flower, please?”

Her smile grows, dimpling her cheeks. She reaches into her basket and slides a beautiful lily under one of the leather straps on his chest.

Sephiroth gently takes her hands in his and bends down until his forehead touches hers. They look into each other’s eyes, still smiling, and pay no mind to the world around them.

And the void inside Sephiroth’s heart finally starts closing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the Reunion™ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) 
> 
> There will probably be smut in the next chapter HUEHUEHUE


	7. Throne

They soon leave the square before people start taking more pictures. The last thing Sephiroth wants for Aerith is to be shown on TV and subjected to everyone’s hungry curiosity.

He knows word about their meeting will soon spread like a wildfire. Shinra will learn about it, and Hojo will grin in that creepy way of his, expecting Sephiroth to give him what he wanted since the first time Aerith stepped into the Science Department.

Sephiroth won’t give it to him. He will keep Aerith safe, far from pain and more torture.

Together with Genesis’ knowledge of the Upper Plates, they manage to avoid more crowds and people’s questions. They walk quickly, entering less-known alleys and streets, turning corners, until they reach their original destination – the restaurant – from another direction.

“Thank the Goddess this place isn’t so famous.” Genesis sighs with relief as they make sure nobody followed them. “The media still hasn’t found out we eat here often.”

Sephiroth and Aerith have held hands for the whole time during their ‘escape’. As they stand in front of the wooden doors of the restaurant, they look down at their joined hands and blush, but they don’t pull away. They smile at each other, before Sephiroth bashfully looks away, trying to hide his blush.

“Aerith, is it?” Angeal says with the happiest grin Sephiroth has ever seen on his face. The dark-haired man offers her his hand. “We heard a lot about you. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Oh, thank you!” She shakes his hand with an equally bright smile. “It’s a pleasure for me, too, Angeal.”

Genesis _bows_ to her, causing Sephiroth to groan and roll his eyes. The red-haired SOLDIER even takes her hand and brushes his lips against it, saying with all the theatrical pathos he possesses:

“It’s an honour to make your acquaintance, miss Aerith. Your beauty and grace are a balm for our sore eyes.” He takes a deep breath and quotes: “ _When the war of the beasts brings about the world's end/The goddess descends from the sky/Wings of light and dark spread afar/She guides us to bliss, her gift everlasting_.”

“Umh…” Aerith’s smile falters a bit, tinted with confusion. “Thank you?”

“You’re scaring her.” Sephiroth growls, glaring at his best friend. “Leave her be.”

“I have an even better idea: why don’t we leave you two alone?” Angeal intervenes, pinching Genesis’ side under his red jacket when he tries to protest (“ _Ouch!”_ ). “I’m sure you have a lot of catching up to do. Nothing better than doing that in front of a good dinner.”

Panic rises within Sephiroth. He has prayed every day for this day to come, but now that it has finally arrived, he has no idea what to do. He never spent time alone with a woman, and Aerith isn’t just a woman. She is _Aerith_ , and she is so beautiful and smiling at him so happily, his knees seem to have turned into jelly.

The Great General, Demon of Wutai, has no idea how to court a woman.

Because he _wants_ to court Aerith. He wants to stay with her. He is ready to do anything, to become anything, in order to never leave her side again and make sure she will be safe and happy forever.

“Are you sure?” she asks politely, but it’s crystal clear how much she likes the idea of being alone with Sephiroth. “I don’t want to intrude in your day off.”

“No worries!” Angeal insists, winking at Sephiroth, who stares at him as if he has gone mad. Angeal _never_ winks. “We always meet at work, after all. Have fun!”

“Until next time, darling Aerith.” Genesis bows to her again, before turning to Angeal with a venomous glare as they walk away. “Were you trying to rip my skin off?!”

Aerith giggles, while Sephiroth’s panic grows as he is left alone with her. So much time has passed, and yet she seems so comfortable, so relaxed, as if they haven’t seen each other for just a few hours, not years. 

“Is everything alright?” she asks him, noticing his distress. Her kindness and selflessness haven’t changed. She is still so attuned to the people and world around her, so ready to help and comfort.

“Yes.” Sephiroth smiles at her, gently squeezing her small hand. She looks ecstatic, and the dimples on her cheeks are as pink as her ribbon.

“You kept it.” he says, nodding at it, and she laughs softly while her blush deepens.

“Of course. How could I not?” She lets out a shaky breath, new tears swimming in her eyes. “Oh, Seph, I missed you! I missed you so much, every day!”

“I missed you, too, Aerith.” His voice is hoarse and rough with tears stuck in his throat.

In a moment, they are in each other’s arms, holding and held tightly, Aerith’s basket forgotten on the ground.

Sephiroth presses his lips on Aerith’s hair and inhales deeply – she smells of flowers and sweat, not of chemicals like she used to in the labs. She is soft, but strong, and her arms around his body are like benevolent ivy.

“Aerith.” he calls, and she is burning hot against his chest. He can almost feel her heart beat against his – _thu-thump, thu-thump_ , alive and resilient like her lilies.

She cries harder. He is so tall her head doesn’t reach his shoulder – he feels her press a kiss on the bare part of his chest not covered by his coat, and he is startled.

He loves her, he always has, but their love before was an innocent one. Now they are adults, and there are different implications in such a gesture. Or so he believes. He doesn’t know. No woman ever kissed his chest before.

“Aerith.” he calls again, voice too deep, and she looks up at him. She has never stopped smiling, and her eyes are greener, like a sea of grass.

“Why are you still here in Midgar?” He has to know. What did go wrong? Why isn’t she somewhere safer?

“Mom died after we got down the train.” she says, her smile fading away. Sephiroth takes a choked breath, his hands on Aerith’s back shaking.

Ifalna _dead_? Just like that, just a short time after her escape?

“How?” he asks, his voice barely audible.

“I… I don’t know. I think her body couldn’t take it anymore. She collapsed when the train stopped in the slums of Sector 7.”

“Have you been alone ever since?!” Dread and horror fill Sephiroth’s heart. He didn’t know! He couldn’t know! Shinra covered her tracks, they did everything to stop him from finding her sooner!

But those sound like excuses in his mind, and he closes his eyes, pressing his forehead against hers, his breathing laboured and heavy.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Aerith. Please forgive me, I…”

“Oh, Sephiroth, I have not been alone! A dear woman, Elmyra, adopted me that day. She found me and Mom, and saved me.”

Deep relief makes Sephiroth relax and sigh, but he still feels guilty.

“I should have done more. I should have looked harder for you. I should have eluded Shinra’s security and discovered where you were. If I had known you were here in Midgar all along, I…!”

“Shh.” She presses a long finger on his lips, sending a hot shiver run down his spine. She is smiling again, and they are so close Sephiroth can once again count the little blemishes on her skin and the flecks of grass and pollen on her neck.

“You couldn’t have done anything, Sephiroth. I know how relentless Shinra can be. They even told the Turks to watch me and make sure I don’t leave.”

“The _Turks_?” As if she was a terrorist! A dangerous menace!

He sneers in rage and disgust, but Aerith’s smile and laugh heal his fury.

“It’s okay, I’m used to it! And they haven’t tried anything in all these years, since Shinra is so focused on the war in Wutai.” Her smile turns sweeter and an excited light appears in her eyes. “But I’m happy to hear you looked for me.”

“ _Always_. I always tried, but Shinra would intervene, denying me access to any information or data that could have led me to you.” He sighs, frustrated, and gently touches the bangs that fall around her eyes. He feels bolder. Brave, like on the battlefield.

“I’m sorry.” he repeats, but she won’t have it.

“Stop saying that!” Her smile is contagious. “I looked for you, too, you know? I would always see you on TV, on magazines, on the newspaper, but I couldn’t talk with you, touch you, ask you how you were. One day, I couldn’t take it anymore.”

He frowns, worried and confused, and she laughs again.

“Please don’t get mad! I… I went to the Upper Plates and tried to reach the Shinra Building.”

“ _Aerith!_ ”

“I know, I know! Mom Elmyra realized what I had in mind, because I had cried so much about you the night before. So she followed me and stopped me before I could do something stupid.”

“I need to meet Miss Elmyra.” he grumbles, glaring at Aerith. “I need to thank her for being so sensible, clearly more than _you_.”

“I couldn’t waste your gift like that.” Aerith says, touching absentmindedly the tips of his hair falling on his chest. “You sacrificed so much to save me and Mom Ifalna. I know they punished you, Sephiroth. They always did.”

He stays silent, not wanting to confirm that, even though she knows she’s right. She gently brushes her fingers against his cheek, looking at him with awe, studying every detail of his face. Sephiroth can’t help but blush again.

“I just… missed you so much. I felt like I was going crazy.” Aerith’s smile is now a bit sad. “I recorded all your speeches and interviews. I cut and kept all the newspaper articles about you.”

Sephiroth snorts and smirks, flattered and a bit embarrassed, but definitely happy.

“Did you join my fan club, too?”

A giggle, and he gasps.

“You did not!”

“I never post in the forums! I just read what the others write.” She bites her lips, her voice softer as she fidgets with his hair. “You can’t use your real name there, anyway, so you couldn’t have recognized me even if I had written something. And how could I even introduce myself in front of all the other fans? ‘Hi, Seph, I’m Aerith, your old friend’? So I tried contacting you in private, but the Private Message page in your profile is of course closed.”

“My fans are… a hungry bunch. I have to defend myself somehow.”

Aerith laughs – and Sephiroth is reminded of the angels he read about when he was a child. She stands on her tip-toes to press kisses all over his face. He gasps and holds his breath under that sweet siege, his mind going blank.

“Oh, Seph.” She grins at him. “You’re as shy as ever!”

He shows her his soft smile, the one he uses so rarely and only with Genesis and Angeal. With her, it’s even sweeter, and timid – if someone saw the Great General now, they probably wouldn’t believe it’s really him.

\- - -

Aerith’s soul sings with joy. She feels more joyous than words can express. Right now, right here in Sephiroth’s arms, life is perfect.

The Planet is happy for her, too. She can hear it hum in the back of her mind, celebrating the reunion with her dearest Seph, but she also hears odd sentences amidst the congratulations and cheers.

_Don’t let the Calamity take a hold on him._

_Take his hand and guide him towards the light._

_Help him find the truth._

_That way, things will be different here._

Aerith doesn’t know what the Planet means. It’s often a cryptic, mysterious friend, and she isn’t wise enough to understand all its messages. What is this Calamity? What truth is the Planet talking about? What is going to be different?

She doesn’t know, but she will do everything in her power to help Sephiroth find his happiness. She can see that their reunion already made him feel better – gone are the stress and sadness in his eyes that she saw so often on TV. He is as bright as a comet, and his heart is full of light and compassion.

She loves him. She always has – first it was an innocent love, the one shared by children. Now that she is a grown woman and he a grown man, she wants more. She wants to spend her life with him, have children with him.

The world they live in is a dangerous one and she now knows what Shinra was planning to do with her and Sephiroth. But they are both are stronger, now – surely things can be different? Surely they can find a safe place and defend their children if necessary?

 _No._ the Planet cruelly shatters her fantasy. _No sense in hiding. They would find you._

 _But I want to stay with him!_ Aerith cries in her heart, hiding her face against Sephiroth’s chest so he won’t see the anguish on it. _I want a life with him!_

_Then make the world a better place, first._

She gasps softly. She is the last of her race. The only relic of her people she possesses is a Materia she isn’t quite sure how to use. Her mother didn’t have enough time to teach her everything. How can she hope to change things for the entire world?

 _Sephiroth might not even want me._ she sadly reminds herself. He is so kind, so selfless, so beautiful. Everyone knows he anonymously sends money to the slums, since he cannot directly help the people there – Shinra never allowed their greatest General to visit the cesspits of Midgar.

 _Because I live there._ Aerith thinks bitterly. He would have found her, had they let him go.

He sends money every four weeks. To the orphanage, to the shops, to the poorest families. Money for repairs, for food, for necessities. He never confirmed it, always avoiding the question, but the information leaked and everyone knows. Aerith knew since from the start, because she knows _him_ , and the Planet confirmed her suspicions.

How could a man like this not have a girlfriend, a devoted lover? Maybe Shinra found the perfect wife for him after Aerith’s escape. Maybe he still sees her as a dear friend, and nothing more. She imagines a life together, with children running in the house and tight embraces shared in bed, but it’s useless. He is a distant star, perfect and bright, and their union would cause Shinra to increase their efforts to ruin their life.

_Then make the world a better place._

_How?!_ Sometimes Aerith wishes she could shake the Planet to make it spill things more clearly. _I don’t have that kind of power!_

_You and Sephiroth do._

_So much time has passed. He probably doesn’t even remember that silly promise we made._

_And yet you still love him, despite the passage of time. Why shouldn’t he return your feelings?_

Aerith blushes and grumbles a bad word under her breath, forgetting about Sephiroth’s enhanced hearing. He makes a confused noise, looking down at her with wide eyes.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks, already pulling away, but she stops him before he can do so.

“Absolutely not! You’re perfect, Seph.”

He snorts.

“I mean it.” Aerith turns serious. The Planet is right. Her love for Sephiroth didn’t disappear over the years – in fact, it got even stronger. Why couldn’t the same count for him?

She is a flower peddler living in the slums of a dangerous city. She has always been a strong-willed girl. Once she sets her eyes on something, she finds a way to get it.

She imagines Sephiroth and herself living a normal, happy life, surrounded by two or three kids-

_Four._

_Three! Let’s start small!_

-his arm wrapped around her waist, standing in a cottage in Mideel or a nice house in Rocket Town. A pet or two playing in the garden. Sephiroth laughing and eating her cakes. Sephiroth hugging their children (all three will have his hair and her eyes, she decides).

Oh, and Shinra finally gone, Hojo rotting somewhere, unable to hurt more innocent people, of course. The Planet recovering. The reactors closing down. Sephiroth…

Her mind is _especially_ focused on Sephiroth smiling. Everything else is a noble cause, yes, but Sephiroth finally finding joy? That would be Gaia’s greatest gift to Aerith.

 _Prepare yourself, Seph._ she thinks, wrapping her arm around his. _I’m going to woo you so hard, we will be married by the end of the week._

“Say, are you really hungry?” she asks with her most dazzling smile. It seems to work, because a small, but well visible blush colours Sephiroth’s cheeks and he clears his throat before speaking.

“Not that much, no. But I would like to treat you tonight, Aerith. This restaurant is good.”

 _Once a gentleman, always a gentleman._ she thinks with a loving smile. She still remembers all the times he gave her his beloved chocolate bars after a bad day in the labs.

“Thank you, Seph – but do you really want to spend our reunion here, with the risk of people seeing us and taking pictures?” She grins at him, bouncing on her feet. “What about dinner at my house, in Lower Sector 5?”

He looks surprised and a bit scared, too. But he soon controls the fear – was she too forward? – and replies gently: “I doubt I would be welcomed in the Lower Plates. I’m Shinra’s General, remember?”

“People actually love you down there.” Aerith reassures him, before picking her basket from the ground. “There is a rumour going around saying you’re the one sending huge donations every four weeks.” Sephiroth takes a quick breath at this. “And everyone knows you don’t really like obeying Shinra’s orders that much.”

He snorts again, showing the hints of an amused smile.

 _Good, that’s what I like to see!_ Aerith swears she will make him laugh out loud soon.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Yes. Especially during your speeches.” She giggles. “I remember the one you gave last month! You looked so angry about the President’s decision to send more novice SOLDIERs to Wutai.”

“Of course I was.” he grumbles. “They need their training, yes, but _here_. Here, where it’s safer and they can learn how to better protect themselves and their comrades before joining the fight.”

A great wave of love and admiration falls over Aerith. It’s as if she was drenched by the rain again, but this time she feels only comfortable and warm.

“You really care about your men.” A statement, not a question, one which makes Sephiroth blush again and look away.

“I’m their General. I cannot fail them.”

“You won’t. I know it.” She kisses his cheek, having to jump a little to reach it. He chuckles at the sight, and the sound is so wondrous, so familiar and happy, Aerith feels like crying.

“You could simply ask me to bend my neck. No need to strain yourself.”

“I’m pretty strong!” she exclaims, flexing her slim arm to show him, but she regrets doing so. Compared to _his_ arms, which are harder than a concrete pillar, hers look like noodles.

“Well, at least I’d like to be.” She sighs, looking at her disappointing lack of muscles. “Life in the slums is guaranteed to make you fight every day. But the only thing I can use is this portable staff and healing spells.”

“Good Gaia, Aerith.” Sephiroth groans, clearly feeling guilty again. “It’s a miracle nothing happened to you.”

“I’m resourceful, like everyone else in the slums.” She steps closer to him, hoping to reassure him. “I know many shortcuts and hidden passageways to go back home safely. We could use those – no one would see us.”

He sighs, thinking about it. He looks like the General he is, studying all possible strategies and planning the best one in his mind.

“I don’t want curious people to follow _you_ and discover where you live. There is already going to be an entire report on us on the news tomorrow morning.”

“ _Who is the mysterious young woman who received General Sephiroth’s kiss on her forehead?_ ” Aerith jokes with the deep voice of a TV commentator. He snorts and hides his mouth behind a hand, trying not to laugh. She insists, grinning mischievously at him.

“ _What’s the identity of this simple beauty who stole the Great General’s heart? Could she be his new girlfriend?”_

“My first girlfriend.” he corrects her, giving her a bashful look and smile, and Aerith’s heart soars to never-known-before heights.

“You mean…?”

He suddenly looks embarrassed. He clears his throat and pretends to be deeply engrossed in the silver clasps of his gloves.

“I never wanted to… go out with people. Except for Genesis and Angeal, I guess.”

“Oh, I see.” She is so pleased, she isn’t able to hide it. She smiles so hard, her cheeks hurt; she tightens her grip on Sephiroth’s arm and even finds the courage to grab his gloved hand.

“Shall we go, then? I can make a pretty good vegetable soup. Spicy and thick.”

He goes back to strategist mode and frowns, concentrating.

“What’s the safest route?”

“We will take the inner alleyways to reach the slums. From there, we can walk on the roofs to get to my house, if you don’t want to be seen.”

“Hm. Don’t the monsters ever come up on the roofs? Are you truly safe to walk there?”

“Well, they usually keep far from the inhabited parts.” she says while fixing the lily still on his chest. “They tend to roam the Train Graveyard and the paths between the different Sectors. I was never attacked while getting back home.”

Sephiroth sighs, extremely aggravated, and Aerith can’t help but giggle and kiss his cheek again. This time, he anticipates her move and bends down to help her.

“Fortunately, your best friend will be here for you. I will be your bodyguard.” he says, nudging her playfully. There is a happy glint in his eyes, one she knows well – he has overcome his shyness for the moment and wants to joke and goof around… in his own style, of course, which has always been measured and calm.

“Thank you, Seph!” And just when Aerith is about to press another kiss on his face – because she just can’t resist – his PHS rings, making both of them jump.

“Curses.” Sephiroth grumbles. He looks about to rip the thing apart, but Aerith convinces him to answer with a kind look and a nod of her head.

“… What?” he growls as he puts the PHS to his ear, probably scaring to death whoever is on the other side. A pause, during which Aerith laughs softly as she watches his frown deepen and a pout appear on his cute mouth.

“I don’t care. No. No. I will deal with it later. I’m very busy right now.” Another pause, then Sephiroth snarls and raises his voice: “Tell Hojo he can go rot in Ifrit’s hell for all I care!”

The mention of Hojo sends a shiver of fear and disgust up Aerith’s arms, but Sephiroth’s presence makes her feel safe, as it always did.

She suddenly knows they won’t be able to continue their date today. This call probably means that pictures and videos showing what happened in the square have been already posted online, causing Shinra’s reaction. She wasn’t expecting them to act so soon, though.

Sephiroth looks furious. Whoever he’s speaking to talks for a long time, until he snaps.

“Alright! I understand. Tell them I’m coming.”

When he closes the call, his expression is sad and disappointed. Aerith feels the same, but she knows it’s not his fault. It’s Shinra’s, always Shinra’s. Always getting between them and ruining everything.

She acts cheerfully to make him feel better. After all, he now knows where she lives – she knows there will be other occasions to meet and spend more time together.

She tells him so, and a soft smile appears on his face. He looks down at his phone.

“Do you have one? We could exchange our numbers.”

“Can I text you cute messages at night?” she asks, taking out her own PHS, a way older model than Sephiroth’s, kept together with tape. He looks at it with disapproval and she just _knows_ he is thinking about buying her a new one.

“Don’t.” She taps his nose. “This one works perfectly. I’m used to it and I love it. I called it Blossom. I don’t need a new one.”

“Hmph.”

“So?” She smiles happily, swaying her dress right and left. “Can I text you?”

He gives her that amused, and yet so soft smile she loves so much.

“Only if you promise to keep the emoticons to a minimum.”

“How do you know I love using emoticons?!”

“Heh.” He snorts and hides his mouth again, much to her sadness. Is he used to hiding his happiness, now? She doesn’t remember him doing that when they were children. Hojo must have made everything harder for him.

“Just a hunch.” he answers after pushing his laugh down. His smile is still there, though, playful and bashful, and Aerith feels warm all over, from the roots of her hair to the nails of her feet.

“Can I text you tonight?”

Sephiroth’s blush – which has been constantly present on his face – now reaches his ears. Just like old times. Aerith wants to kiss him right there, right then, but she would never startle him and invade his personal space like that.

“Of course.”

“Can I call you as well?” She suddenly gets shy, too. “I… I love hearing your voice.”

Sephiroth looks at her with so much intensity, her heart skips a few beats. He puts away his PHS and starts removing his left glove – Aerith sees the bare skin of his hand for the first time, and when he cups her cheek, she finally feels it.

Tears suddenly fill her eyes. Panic appears in Sephiroth’s, but she chases it away with a joyous laugh and her own hands on his face. He moves his hand from her cheek to her wrist, touching her gently.

“You can call me any time.” he says, his voice deep and soothing. He changed throughout the years, and yet he is still the same. The same selfless Sephiroth who would always put her needs and desires first; the same kind Sephiroth who would touch her with respect; the same strong Sephiroth who would defend her from Hojo’s harsher demands.

She has finally found him again.

“We will meet again soon.” she promises, tears of joy streaming down her face.

He presses a small, feather-light kiss on her hand.

“Be careful, Aerith.” Another kiss. “Send me a text once you arrive home.”

She giggles. She feels drunk.

“Alright, I promise.”

“Do you have any Materia?”

“Yes, a Cure one.”

“Take one of mine.”

He hands her a Fire one, a _very_ powerful one, levelled to the max. She could burn down an entire city with something like this.

“I’m not sure I know how to use it.” she admits, nervously touching the scarlet sphere. “It’s okay, Seph. Nothing has ever attacked me on the roofs.”

“You can never be too safe. This will protect you. Take it.” He inserts the Materia into her staff to make sure it will be useful in case of danger.

But Aerith knows no monster will attack her tonight – this day has been just too special, just too sacred, for something bad to happen.

“Goodnight, Aerith.” he whispers against her cheek as he kisses it. He sounds shy – it’s clear he has never done this before, just like he said.

Aerith hasn’t either, but that’s not going to stop her. She turns her head just in time to press her lips on the corner of Sephiroth’s mouth. Not a true kiss, but close to it.

His face turns redder than the Materia he gave her.

“Goodnight, Seph.” she says softly, then she sprints away, before she combusts on the spot, too.

\- - -

Aerith:

I’m home! (o^▽^o)

Seph:

Are you alright? Did you encounter any trouble?

Aerith:

I’m fine! not even a scratch!

Seph:

I’m glad. Thank you for telling me. I will sleep better tonight.

Aerith:

did shinra bother you about what happened in the square? :(

Seph:

Not really. Hojo was unsettling, as per usual. I will tell you more tomorrow.

Aerith:

UGH, he’s such a creep (￢_￢)

Aerith:

wyd? <3

Seph:

… What?

Aerith:

what are you doing? <3

Seph:

Lying in bed.

Aerith:

same, I’m in bed, too

Seph:

I was reading a book, waiting for your text.

Seph:

But I think I will sleep, now.

Seph:

You should rest, too. It’s late.

Aerith:

can I call you to tell you goodnight? (*≧ω≦*)

Seph:

… Those are not the emoticons I know. How are you even making them?

Aerith:

hehehe, I’ll teach you when we meet again <3

Aerith:

you didn’t answer my question ( `ε´ )

Seph:

I told you, you can call me whenever you want.

Seph:

So, yes, you may call me now.

\- - -

“Goodnight, Seph. I’m so happy we found each other again.”

“As am I. Goodnight, Aerith. Sleep well.”

\- - -

She is moaning and panting under him. He can see a thin sheen of sweat glisten on her bare breasts in the moonlight – her hands are gripping the sheets, her braid almost undone on the pillow.

“Sephiroth.” Aerith whimpers, spreading her legs. He can see her cunt, pink and wet. He fingered her, because he read somewhere that it’s an important step before the full act.

She shouldn’t feel any pain when he enters her, that way. He hopes she won’t.

He’s naked, too, his knees digging into the mattress as he looks down at her with love and ardour. His cock is hard in his hand as he pumps and readies himself.

“Please.” Aerith moans, opening herself further for him. How is he supposed to slide into something so narrow and tight without hurting her?

“Aerith.” he calls, gently falling between her legs, aligning himself against her slick entrance. “Aerith, let me fill you.”

“Yes, _yes!_ ”

He thrusts into her, and she cries out, wrapping her arms around him. He groans. He feels warm all over, and her cunt envelops him so perfectly. She smiles at him. Even though he’s bigger than her, she isn’t in pain.

“I’m so happy.” she says between moans as he moves faster. Her breasts jiggle against his chest, his balls smack against her flesh.

“I’m so happy.” She kisses his face and he licks the sweat off her cheek. “I’m so happy we found each other again.”

“As am I.” he pants, cupping her face.

Her smile turns playful.

“Goodnight, Seph.”

\- - -

Sephiroth wakes up with a gasp. He sits on his bed and stares at the erection straining against his sweatpants, a coin-like circle right where the wet tip is.

“No.” he whispers, horrified. “No, no, _no!_ ”

How can he look Aerith in the eye, now? He just had a… an _erotic_ dream about her, just a few hours after meeting her again!

What kind of disgusting man is he? No, he is less than a man.

He hates his body for the way it’s still reacting to the dream. His erection is painfully hard, and he can’t stop thinking about Aerith moaning under him, about her smile, about the way she looked and moved and…

“I need air.” he says to no one in particular, his voice so deep it’s as if he drank an entire bottle of strong liquor in one go.

He flees his apartment, chest and feet bare. His silver hair is stuck to his sweaty body.

He doesn’t go far – Genesis and Angeal’s doors are just right next to his, and he knows the passcodes to enter their apartments, just like they know his.

He presses the four numbers on Angeal’s pad, and he’s in.

“Angeal.” Sephiroth calls, his voice a sort of rasping sound that startles even him. His poor friend – a light sleeper since his childhood – opens his eyes with a start. It takes him a few second to sit up, perfectly awake, and stare at Sephiroth with worry.

“Seph? What’s wrong?”

“I…” Seph looks down at his pants. Angeal follows his gaze and stutters.

“H-Hey! Point that somewhere else!”

“I… I dreamed about Aerith. We were… We were making love, and then…”

“Oh, for Gaia’s sake! Did you have a _wet dream_ about her?”

“This never happened to me after a dream! Only in the morning, after waking up!”

“That’s called morning wood, Seph.” Angeal looks at him with all the patience of a saint.

Sephiroth blushes, embarrassed, angry at himself, and terribly ashamed. He clenches his fists and takes a deep breath.

“What should I do?”

“Why are you asking me?! What do you usually do with… with _that_ when it comes in the morning?”

“I ignore it until it goes away.”

Angeal pinches the bridge of his nose, mumbling something unintelligible.

Just then, the door opens and a dishevelled Genesis enters the room. He looks at his two friends with sleepy eyes, a red dressing gown wrapped tightly around his body.

“What in the Goddess’ name is happening?”

“Seph just had his first wet dream.” Angeal explains with a sigh, ignoring Sephiroth’s glare.

“Congratulations! Better late than never.”

“About Aerith.”

“ _Heh._ ” Genesis’ smile is sly and mischievous as he turns to Sephiroth. “I knew it.”

Sephiroth’s blush is so bright, it could illuminate the whole city. He glowers at his two best friends, but there is a clear request for help in his eyes.

“What should I do?” he repeats, hoping Genesis will have mercy on him.

“I don’t know. How do you usually deal with it?”

“He doesn’t.” Angeal answers for Sephiroth, who glares at him harder.

“Goddess! That’s no way to live, Seph.”

“I don’t mean… _this!_ ” Sephiroth points at his erection, which is thankfully going away. “I mean about Aerith! How can I talk to her, now? I’m filth! Worse than filth!”

“Well, you care about her, don’t you?” Genesis moves to sit on Angeal’s bed, his black, fuzzy slippers making no sound on the carpet. “I’d say you already love her, despite the years spent apart.”

Sephiroth doesn’t reply, but his expression softens and his face gets even redder.

“The solution is simple.” Genesis’ mischievous smile returns. “I will teach you how to court her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> djfkfgfg WELP, I realized nine chapters weren't enough to write everything I wanted, so the fic is officially going to be longer ( ´ ▽ ` )
> 
> Also, I apologize if the smut scene isn't what you had in mind - one of the reasons why I want to make the fic longer is to make things go more slowly between Sephiroth and Aerith. I have many scenes in mind for them, and I didn't want to put myself in a hurry and ruin my vision of the story ; v ;
> 
> So, don't worry, they will make love for real in the future ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my, my first FFVII fic! (´ ∀ ` *) I've been a fan of the game and series since I was a kid, and I shipped Sephiroth and Aerith when I didn't even know what a ship was! After replaying the OG game, CC, and the Remake, I felt the urge to finally write something with them. 
> 
> I'm basing this fic on the early drafts of the story, where Sephiroth was Aerith's lover. Like many others, I like to think they met in the labs as children, then met again as adults after Aerith's escape. 
> 
> Forgive me for any typos, btw! English is not my native language ; v ;


End file.
